


The Oath

by Scalliwag



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Action/Adventure, Altean Keith (Voltron), Altean Lance (Voltron), Altean Shiro (Voltron), Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Royalty, But also, Galra Keith (Voltron), Galtean AU, Hunk and Pidge are, Kidnapping, M/M, Rescue, Some hurt/comfort, Space Pirates, because why not, bit of a spoiler so shhhh, lotor is evil, sexual content in the last chapter, torture mentioned but not dwelt on except for the aftermath
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:01:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21624202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scalliwag/pseuds/Scalliwag
Summary: Keith has been training his whole life to be the Prince's bodyguard. When Lance is kidnapped, Keith will stop at nothing to find him, even if that means defying orders and pursuing the young Prince on his own.A Royal Altean AU about loyalty, love, and finding one's path. And also Space Pirates.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 47
Kudos: 162





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the Warnings at the end! 
> 
> There are some things later in this fic that people may or may not want to avoid. None of those things are in this Prologue, hence why the warnings are at the end. 
> 
> If you read those and decide not to continue, at least you'll have gotten this cute little story of Prince!Lance and Bodyguard!Keith. That being said, I'm really excited about this fic so I hope you all keep reading. 
> 
> Without any further ado, here's the prologue!

Altea is known for many things: Temperate weather, kind citizens, technological genius. They are also very well known for their elite force of soldiers: The Guardians. All Guardians are tasked with protecting Altea, but the highest ranking of that order protect the royal family. They vow to lay down their lives, if need be, though it would take an opponent of considerable might to fell any one of them. Being a Guardian is not a job. It is a calling that all Guardians treat with the utmost importance. Though none are as dedicated as one scrawny fifteen-year-old. 

Technically, Keith isn’t a Guardian yet. Applicants aren’t even allowed to take the exam until they turn nineteen and only three people in the entire history of the order have managed to pass on their first try. That doesn’t matter to Keith. He knows he has what it takes. After all, Keith’s father is the Commander of the Guardians and his brother, Shiro, is one of those three who passed the exam at age nineteen. Both Keith and Shiro spent their entire childhoods training for this. Their father was the personal Guardian to the king and, after today, Shiro would become Guardian to the Princess. 

When he was younger, Keith had dreamed about becoming Guardian to the princess, before his father informed him that this would be impossible. 

“The Princess will turn 18 long before you are old enough to take the exam,” his father had cautioned. “Her Guardian will need to be trained and ready to begin their duties the moment the Princess comes of age.”

Six-year-old Keith had frowned at that, disappointed for all of two minutes before coming up with a solution. 

“I’ll be the Prince’s guardian instead then!” 

“You would have to pass the exam on your first try to become a Guardian before Prince Lance’s eighteenth birthday.”

“Okay,” Keith had said with the kind of sincerity that only a child could muster. 

From that point on, Keith threw himself into training with a fierceness that astonished everyone. 

When Keith turned seven, he finally met the prince in person. 

Prince Lance was a handful. He was always managing to slip out of his governess’s care and he loved ordering people around. When the Prince stumbled upon a dark haired little boy who proudly proclaimed that he would protect Lance for the rest of his life, Lance only needed a second to make up his mind. 

For the next month, Lance demanded that Keith be at his side every moment of the day. He threw temper-tantrums until Keith would return and only calmed down once Keith finally explained that he had to train sometime. 

“I’ll never be strong enough to be your Guardian unless I train every day.”

“You’re strong now,” Lance complained, wiping tears away with the back of his hand. 

“I need to be stronger, so I can protect you.”

They finally settled on a routine. Lance would spend the day with his governess, behaving and studying as best he could. When he could stand it no more, Lance would escape to watch Keith’s training. Then Keith would accompany Lance for the rest of the evening, standing on guard behind his chair at dinner, just as his father did for the King. The King and Queen thought it was adorable and the Queen even had the royal tailors fashion a child sized Guardian’s uniform for Keith. Allura stuck up her nose at the whole thing, insisting that it was childish. Lance just told her she was jealous. 

No one took Keith very seriously, of course. He was an indulgence they allowed their prince, one they assumed that he would eventually grow out of. He never did. Instead, Lance and Keith began to form a true friendship that was an odd mix of formalities and intimacy. Keith never called Lance anything but, “My Prince” in public, but when Lance’s mother died, Keith held him in his arms as he sobbed himself to sleep. 

When Lance turned thirteen, his feelings for Keith changed again. He took to teasing the other boy, reveling in the blush that would cover Keith’s cheeks enough to make his red Altean marks disappear. He would interrogate visitors to the palace for the best pick-up lines and then use them to make his Guardian-in-training squirm. For his part, Keith never did anything more than blush and stay silent. It was infuriating and only ever made Lance more determined to break him. It was months before Lance finally managed to win by pressing a quick kiss to Keith’s cheek. Keith had slapped a hand to the spot, blood flooding his face so fast that Lance was worried that for a moment that Keith might faint. Instead, he took off down the hall in a mad dash. 

Unable to gloat to the now missing Keith, Lance instead brought news of his victory to his sister. Allura was less impressed. She scolded Lance for playing with Keith’s feelings and making him uncomfortable. 

“A Guardian’s duty is to protect the royal family. I understand you like Keith, but if you want him to become your Guardian, you cannot distract him with personal feelings.”

Lance pouted. He knew Allura was right, but he didn’t think she’d be so blunt about it. He had been so happy only minutes before. 

“I’m not distracting him. We’re just teasing each other. He’s my friend.”

“He’s your Guardian,” Allura corrected him. “Or at least he wants to be.”

Lance frowned and stomped out of Allura’s room. Who cares if he was friends with his guardian. It’s not like Lance would ever become King anyway. Allura would inherit the throne. She would be the one who needed protecting. So what if Lance actually liked his Guardian. Allura was wrong. They could be friends without it being a distraction. However, as the evening wore on and Keith did not return, Lance began to doubt himself. 

The next morning, Keith was waiting outside Lance’s door, his back straight and his chin raised, just the same as always. A soft pink blush dusted his cheeks when Lance emerged, but other than that, he behaved the same way he always did. Lance felt a surge of pride for his Guardian. So what if other royals hadn’t been close to their Guardians. Keith was better than them, clearly. Everything would be fine. But maybe Lance would tease him just a little less from now on. Just to be sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright folks, I hope you enjoyed the Prologue. Chapter 1 should be out sometime tomorrow. 
> 
> The first chapter will be pretty tame, however after that there are some things coming in this fic that I feel obligated to warn my readers about. 
> 
> The descriptions of the things mentioned below are not what I would describe as “graphic” HOWEVER, I also recognize that that definition will vary from person to person. These scenes are brief, and I am more than happy to send people information on what chapters or scenes to avoid that pertain to these items if you so desire. 
> 
> WARNINGS: 
> 
> This fic does involve torture (physical, psychological, emotional, etc.). I don’t think it’s terribly graphic, but… you know. It’s still torture. Also, some of this torture happens to a person who is under 18. One of the scenes involves sexual threats. It does not go beyond that one threat, but again, letting people know in case that’s something you cannot or prefer not to read. 
> 
> There is also, as you may have noticed, a little bit of an age difference between Keith and Lance (About a 14 months to be specific). Also, if you read the tags, you know that this is a Klance fic. When their romance starts to pick up steam, Lance is not quite 18 yet. That's a line for some people. Totally understand. But if that's the case, this fic may not be for you. 
> 
> If you’re OK reading a fic with those things, please proceed. 
> 
> And again, if you’re not sure if you want to read this and have specific questions about anything above, feel free to send me a message here or on [my tumblr](https://sscalliwag.tumblr.com/) and I will go into as much or as little detail as you need/want to make that determination.


	2. The Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Allura's eighteenth birthday and the royal family has made plans for the special day. Unfortunately, someone else is making plans as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! 
> 
> Just a reminder, if you haven't read the warnings at the end of the Prologue, go back and read them now. 
> 
> If you have read them, thanks for joining me for this fic! 
> 
> Enjoy the first chapter.

Keith studies his reflection in the mirror, carefully adjusting the high collar. It’s more formal than the standard Guardian uniform. The armor is more decorative than functional, though the built-in Altean tech would of course make up that. A solid chest plate rests over Keith’s shoulders, black and silver fabric flowing from beneath to form a short tunic, a red sash at his waist. His bayard rests at his hip, the traditional weapon for all Guardians. He wears simple black pants and boots. Two silver braces adorn his forearms. The braces look ornamental, though they are packed with Altean tech: Shields, lasers, and a few hidden compartments for grenade discs. Beneath the braces are a pair of black fingerless gloves that reach all the way up his arms, disappearing beneath the shoulder plates. Four thin silver bands secure the gloves at Keith’s biceps and proclaim his Guardian rank to all who see him tonight. 

Every time a Guardian in training masters a skill, they receive a new band. Keith has more than any other cadet his age, though still far less than his father or Shiro. Keith adjusts the bands. He wonders if Lance will notice the new one. The new band was proof that he had mastered the sword. He had also broken every record doing so, including Shiro’s. 

“What are you smiling about?”

Keith turns to see his father in the doorway, a fond smile on his face. 

Keith drops his hands to his side and turns back to the mirror.

“Nothing. I’m just looking forward to the party.”

He straightens his uniform again. Not that it needs it. 

“You seem to be spending an awful lot of time getting ready. Are you trying to look nice for someone special?”

Keith feels the blush creep up the back of his neck, suddenly grateful for the high collar on his uniform. 

“Of course not. I’ll be on duty with the prince all night anyway.”

The silence that greets this denial is unexpected. Keith glances at his father in the mirror. The older man’s smile has grown strained and he is looking at Keith with pain and pity in his eyes. Keith is used to this look. He isn’t used to seeing it from his father. 

“Keith, I know you share a certain bond with the prince, but you must remember your duty above all else. He’s not your friend. He’s your prince. And he certainly will never be anything else.”

“I haven’t forgotten my duty or my place,” Keith insists, his hands balling into fists. 

“Good.”

*****

Keith has been waiting outside Lance’s room for almost an hour now. The rest of the Guardians and palace guards are already at the party and Keith is itching to go as well. There’s nothing like a royal birthday celebration and, with Allura coming of age tonight, this party is bound to be even more spectacular than the others. 

“My Prince, are you ready?”

Keith knocks on the door tentatively. He’s surprised when it opens immediately. Lance sticks his head out, looking down the hallway both ways before dragging Keith into his room. 

“Wha—?”

“Shhh. I’ve been waiting for everyone else to leave for hours.” Lance says, closing the doors quickly behind him. He listens at the door for another couple seconds before turning to face Keith, beaming. “I have something for you.”

He runs over to his bed and pulls a tiny box out from under the pillow before returning to face Keith. Keith stares down at the box in his hands. 

“It’s not my birthday.” He says. Lance rolls his eyes. 

“I know that, dummy. It’s not for your birthday. It’s for passing your latest Guardian test.” Lance raises his hand to brush across the silver ring on Keith’s bicep. Keith feels a rush of pride. Lance had noticed after all. “I heard Shiro tell Allura last night, so I wanted to get you something.”

Keith carefully takes the box out of Lance’s hands and opens it. Inside is a red crystal on a long, silver chain. 

“It’s a holo-crystal,” Lance says, practically bouncing with excitement. “Go ahead. Try it out.”

Keith does as he’s told, slipping the crystal into the tiny slot on the holo-projector on his left wrist band. An image displays above the band a few seconds later. The picture is a little grainy. It looks like it was taken from one of the security cams around the castle. Keith recognizes himself and Lance in the picture. They appear to be mid conversation. Lance has one of his bright, dazzling smiles plastered on his face. Keith is more reserved, though still smiling at the other boy. There are dozens of images of Lance throughout the castle; paintings, holos, and photos of all the royal family. The occasional image may show an official royal guardian, but there was never any call for a young trainee to be recorded, no matter how close he was to the prince. The security footage in the castle was reviewed and wiped daily. Lance would have had to steal this image to save it from being destroyed. It would have been a lot of work, just to retrieve a single picture of the two of them together. 

“Do you like it?” Lance asks. There’s a hint of nervousness in his voice. 

“I’ll treasure it always,” Keith says truthfully. “Thank you.”

Lance beams. 

“OK, five more minutes and then I’ll be ready. I swear.”

Keith groans, but dutifully takes up his stance outside of the door again. While he waits, he slips the holo-crystal out of his wrist band and lays the chain around his neck and beneath the collar of his uniform. The crystal is still warm, resting against Keith’s chest, and he smiles at the memory of the picture contained within. 

****

The party is every bit as fabulous as promised. The castle grounds are decorated with the finest silks, embroidered with gold and silver. Thousands of crystals float above the crowd, suspended by an anti-gravity field Coran invented just for the occasion. They glow faintly in the afternoon light, scattering rainbows among the guests. When night comes, they will provide light for the festivities. Chefs have been brought in from every corner of Altea and even from whole galaxies away. The guests are dressed in their finest gowns and suits of all colors. Lance looks resplendent, dressed in the royal colors of blue and white, a gold circlet shining against his dark skin, the blue jewel set in its center competing for attention with his bright eyes. But even he can’t compete with the vision that is the princess as she enters the hall. 

Allura is dressed in a floor length gown. It is a blue so pale that it almost looks white. Her long hair cascades down her back in perfectly formed curls. Her arms are bare, as is tradition. Keith’s own arms itch at the sight beneath his uniform. In any other context, it would be downright indecent for an Altean to show so much skin, but this is a special occasion. On the night of an Altean’s eighteenth birthday, their marks spread to the rest of their body. The Altean marks are believed to be the imprint of one’s soul, their very essence, to be shared only with those with whom they are closest. Tonight, Allura bares her arms as a sign that she is ready to receive her marks. 

Behind Allura are five Guardians. Four walk at a distance, assignments from the Guardian order for this single night. One Guardian follows closer, a single pace behind and to the right – close enough to protect from any threat, but not so close as to crowd his charge. This is his first night at the Princess’s side, but it will not be the last. Now that Allura has come of age, he will guard her from this night until death or royal decree release him. His face is serious, as the occasion warrants, but Keith always could see through the expressions his brother donned for the public. The lift of the shoulders, the small quirk at the edge of his lips… Keith can see the pride in Shiro as he walks beside his Princess. 

Keith spares a glance at his own royal charge. Lance is just as dazzled as the rest of the crowd by his sister. His eyes shine and he rocks forward like he’s almost about to lift himself onto his tip-toes to see better. Only his endless lessons in etiquette and protocol keep his feet rooted in place. Keith tries to hide his smile. Instead, he schools his face into an identical look to his brother’s and lifts his chin. If he’s going to one day take his official place at Lance’s side, he’ll have to work just as hard as his Shiro did. 

As Allura makes her way through the crowd, the music begins to swell. A man with hair almost as pale as hers steps forward and bows. He offers a hand to the princess. She accepts, allowing herself to be swept into a dance, and the party officially begins. Thousands of Alteans join in on the dancing, including Lance. He offers his hand to a young, blond girl with green-blue marks beneath violet eyes. Keith vaguely remembers she is a member of the nobility, one of the many who Lance is now schooled with. Romelle enthusiastically accepts Lance’s hand. A few feet away, Shiro stands at attention amid the crowd. Dancers seem to weave their way around him as he holds his ground, eyes following the Princess as she moves from partner to partner. Keith tries to mirror the confidence and the stance. It doesn’t work. Whether it’s the confidence Keith lacks or simply the height, no one seems to pay him enough mind to stay clear of him. After being bumped and jostled a few times, Keith gives up on standing at attention. He steps this way and that, avoiding the dancers with ease now that he’s paying attention to them, but soon he loses sight of the prince.  
Keith cranes his neck, looking through the crowd. He tries not to let himself panic. They’re still on the castle grounds. It’s not like anything is going to happen to Lance here. Keith’s presence is merely a formality, but it’s a responsibility he takes seriously. He spots Romelle’s face in the crowd and is about to make his way towards her when he feels a hand on his elbow. 

“Come on, I’m bored. Let’s get out of here.” Keith relaxes at the sound of Lance’s voice and dutifully follows the other boy to the edge of the crowd where people are mingling among tables piled high with the most delectable pastries imaginable. Lance pauses briefly to swipe a finger through the frosting on one of the thousands of tiny cakes, then continues on, licking the sugary confection off his finger as he goes. Keith follows, one pace behind and to the right. 

Lance makes a beeline for the gardens, weaving his way through the tall hedges until they have left behind the party and its guests entirely. Keith is about to call out to Lance, to ask him where exactly he’s going, when Lance suddenly stops and spins around, holding out his hand. Keith looks at it blankly. 

“My prince?”

“Dance with me.”

Keith stares at him, just as confused as ever. He can still hear the faint sound of music carrying through the grounds, but otherwise, the world around them is silent. 

“It’s not permitted for a Guardian to dance with nobility,” Keith says carefully. It has been some time since Lance has teased him in earnest and he’s not entirely sure how to handle it now. 

“I don’t care if it’s not permitted. There’s nobody here to see us anyway.” 

“Someone could come along any minute.”

Lance huffs out an exasperated sigh. 

“Am I your prince or not?”

Keith straightens at the reminder of their stations. 

“Yes, my prince.”

“And have you vowed to follow my commands?”

“Yes, my prince.”

Lance holds his hand out again and smiles. 

“Then dance with me.”

Keith hesitates for a moment longer, then slowly takes Lance’s hand. He isn’t expecting the sharp tug and it’s only his Guardian training that keeps him on his feet as Lance pulls him in closer. It’s awkward at first. Keith has never danced before. While Lance has spent his youth learning every formal dance in Altean tradition as part of his etiquette lessons, Keith has never had the occasion, nor opportunity to dance at any royal function. He ducks his head and keeps his eyes on Lance’s feet, following their movement as if he were following his father’s drills. Lance is patient with him and only grumbles a little the one time Keith accidentally steps on his foot. Before long, Keith is following Lance’s lead with ease. The spinning and the way that Lance is smiling and laughing are going to Keith’s head and he finds himself grinning back at his prince. 

He almost doesn’t notice when the screaming starts. 

It’s only a few voices at first, far away and easily lost in the sound of the music. Then the music stops and there’s no mistaking that noise. Keith slips out of Lance’s arms and grabs his bayard, ready to defend the prince from whatever’s out there, but Lance darts around him, running towards the party, towards danger. 

“Lance!” Keith shouts, forgetting his protocol in his panic. “Lance, wait!” Keith chases after Lance, dodging between people fleeing in the opposite direction. By the time Keith catches up, they've nearly made it back to the party. Keith grabs Lance’s hand and tugs him down behind an over-turned table. Cakes and pastries squish beneath his knees, but he pays no attention to them. 

“What are you doing! Let me go!”

“It’s my duty to protect you, my Prince. I have to get you to safety.”

“But my family!”

“Shiro is protecting your sister, along with four of the finest Guardians in the garrison. The King has his Guardians as well. Let me protect you!”

Lance stares at Keith, eyes wide with fear, but he manages to nod his assent. Keith grips his bayard tighter and raises himself to a crouch, peering over the table to take stock of the situation. The castle grounds are utter chaos. A tide of guests are trying to fight their way out from the center of the grounds, while dozens of Galra soldiers converge on them. Keith can just make out Allura in the center of the throng, surrounded by Guardians. Shiro is there too, bayard activated, holding back the attackers. Keith scans the fight for his father, but he’s nowhere to be seen. He should be there. As Keith watches, two Guardians break off from the group, pushing the Galra back with the force of their attack, pushing them back to the table Keith and Lance are currently hiding behind. 

Keith realizes what’s happening at the last second. He grabs Lance dives out of the way as a Guardian’s bayard slices into the Galra and through the banquet table. The Guardian stares at the two boys for a moment, shock registering on her face as she recognizes the prince. 

“Your highness! We must get you to safety!” She glances back at the fight, before calling to the Guardian who had been at her side. “Quickly! Take the Prince to the castle,” she yells, before charging back into the melee. The other Guardian loses no time. He grabs Lance’s arm and rushes towards the castle. Keith is about to follow when another scream stops him in his tracks. Keith spins back around, eyes searching. Shiro isn’t fighting anymore. Keith catches sight of him on the ground, Allura’s arms wrapped protectively around him, blood staining her dress red a bright red. 

Keith is moving before he realizes it. His feet pounding on the ground, hurtling him towards the fight, until another sound stops him, this one from the direction he had just left. He looks over his shoulder to see the Guardian fending off two Galra. Lance is sprawled on the ground below him. Keith is frozen in place, family on one side, duty on the other. A Galra with a long tail, reaches for Lance. The Guardian deflects the grab, but not quickly enough. Lance cries out as the Galra’s nails slice into his leg. 

Keith doesn’t think. He doesn’t let himself think. He’s a Guardian. Instinct is his training and instinct guides him. He makes it to Lance’s side just in time to see the other Guardian fall, a knife embedded deep in his stomach, his own blade buried in the chest of the second Galra. The fallen Guardian’s bayard deactivates, blade fading to nothing, just as Keith raises his own weapon to strike. 

The sun flashes against his bands, four on each side, proclaiming his abilities and strength to the world. The fallen Guardian had worn seven. Metal crashes against metal. The Galra is quick, meeting every one of Keith’s attacks with ease. There’s a blur to his left, her tail whipping around their bodies. Keith barely feels the crack against his skull before the world goes dark. 

***

Lance hits the floor of the shuttle hard. The doors shut behind him just as a round of laser blasts hit the ship, shattering the glass viewing plane. The Galra couches low and her companion runs to the cockpit, activating the engines and shields at the same time. Lance forces himself to his feet and throws himself at the control panel. If he’s going to get out of here, he has to do it now. A hand grabs the back of his shirt and throws him back to the floor. When he tries to stand again, he’s pitched to the side by the force of the shuttle taking off. He watches through the view window, blurry from the energy field that has taken the place of the glass, as the ground falls away below them. He watches as his home disappears. 

No. 

No, no, no, no no. 

The word echoes in his head, loud and utterly useless. This can’t be happening, but it is. It’s happening. Lance has been kidnapped. His family could be dead for all he knows, and Keith… No, Keith wasn’t dead. He went down, but he wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be dead. Keith is tougher than that. He’s a fighter. What would he do in a situation like this? 

The shuttle rocks to the side, the grinding sound of metal a sure sign that they’ve docked with something bigger. Lance leans against the door to get a better view. Without warning, the door opens, sending him tumbling out of the shuttle. A high-pitched clatter accompanies him as the glass from the shattered view window falls as well. One piece lands in front of him, thick and glinting in the dim, purple lights of the ship. 

What would Keith do?

Lance grabs the shard of glass, feeling it cut into his palm but not caring. 

“Stay away from me!” he shouts, wielding the make shift blade before him. The Galra who had grabbed him steps out of the shuttle, but doesn’t approach him. Good. Maybe he can get to the cockpit and lock himself in, maybe pilot back to Altea, get the attention of one of their ships. Surely they must have launched by now. 

There’s a soft whoosh to Lance’s right as the door to the hangar opens. The man who steps through is not what Lance expects. He’s tall with purple skin and long white hair. His face would be handsome if it didn’t bear a look of utter disgust. There’s no mistaking Lotor, prince of the Galra empire. 

“This is not the prize you were sent for.”

“It was him or nothing,” the pilot says, stepping out of the shuttle next to her companion. “Even with our forces, the Princess was too well guarded.”

Lotor’s frown deepens. He approaches Lance slowly, calmly. Lance waits. The glass in his palm feels slippery, but he grips it tighter. This is his chance. Defeat the general and the troops will withdraw. It is a lesson he had learned from watching Keith’s Guardian instruction, as well as from his own royal military education. When Lotor is within striking distance, Lance lunges. Lotor dodges the blow with ease. He grabs Lance’s hand and begins to squeeze. Lance cries out as the glass cuts deeper into his palm. 

“Let us be clear young prince. You are my prisoner and I can do whatever I please with you.”

He grabs Lance’s face, forcing him to look him in the eye. 

“If I want to kill you, I can kill you. If I want to make you wish you’d never been born, I have my ways. And if I wish to show you a kindness you do not deserve…” Lotor drops Lance’s face and releases his hand. Lance lets the glass fall to the floor and he cradles his shredded hand to his chest. 

“Please,” Lance sobs. “My father will provide a ransom for me. Whatever you want.”

Lotor laughs and spreads his arms, gesturing to the ship around them. 

“I am a prince. Everything the Galra Empire possesses can be mine, and you think some silly ransom would satisfy me? No. You may not be the prize I was after, but I think we can still find some use for you yet. Take him to the cell.”

*****

There’s no one there when Keith wakes up. He is lying on a bed in a small room. He can hear footsteps in the hall, but otherwise it’s quiet. When he sits up, his head gives a painful throb. He can feel a large lump beneath his hair, but it must not have been bad enough to require a healing pod. Still, it’s bad enough that they brought him to a hospital. Keith looks around the room, finally realizing what’s odd about the situation. For every injury he’d had in life, whether big or small, his father and Shiro had been by his side, worrying over him as he healed. Where are they now? Suddenly, he remembers a shout, a blood-soaked dress, Shiro’s ashen face, eyes closed against the pain. 

Keith stumbles out of bed. The health monitor on his wrist gives a loud warning beep, but he ignores it, rushing to the door. He nearly runs head first into the healer standing outside, no doubt coming to check on him after noticing the spike in his heart-rate. 

“Keith, you can’t be out of bed. You’re injured. You need your rest.”

“Where is my brother?”

The look on the healers face is all he needs to confirm what he already knows. 

“Take me to him.”

“Keith, you need to lie back down.”

“No! I’m going to see Shiro, whether you tell me where he is or not. Now help me or get out of my way!”

Keith pushes the healer out of his way, starting down the hall on his own. 

“He’s this way,” the healer says, stopping him in his tracks. “I’ll take you to him if you promise to come back and get some rest after.”

Keith nods. 

The healer leads him down the hall and through several security points. Guardians are posted at the last door. They don’t say anything, but they do give Keith a pitying look. He takes a deep breath before he enters, preparing himself for the worst. 

A soft glow lights the room, emanating from the healing pod in the center. Shiro is inside, but there’s something wrong. Keith places a hand on the pod, staring at the stub where Shiro’s right arm used to be. 

“He’ll be alright.” Keith nearly jumps at the voice. He didn’t realize anyone else was in here. Allura is sitting on a chair a few feet to his left, gazing steadily at the pod.  
“We got him here in time to save his life, but… I’m afraid they couldn’t save his arm.” 

“How long until he wakes up?” Keith asks, turning back to Shiro. There’s a small tuft of white hair laying across his forehead. Sometimes prolonged exposure to the healing pods can do that. Keith wonders how long he was unconscious for those signs to be showing on Shiro already. 

“Three more days.” 

Keith swallows the lump in his throat. Three days, plus the however long he had already been in the pod. Shiro must have been on the brink of death to need that much time. But he’s fine now. Everything will be fine. Keith glances around the room again. There’s a cot in the corner, a small table next to that, and the chair that Allura is sitting in. There’s no one else in the room. 

“Where is my dad? Is he coming back soon?”

“I… they didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” There’s a sinking feeling in Keith’s stomach. “Was he injured in the battle too?”

“Keith, I’m so sorry, but… your father was killed.”

Allura keeps speaking, but Keith can’t hear anything over the ringing in his ears. He barely feels the hard metal on his knees or the soft hands on his shoulders. Someone is saying something to him, but the words make no sense. Dead. His dad is dead. The smooth glass of the healing pod is warm against his hand. He blinks at the bare feet in front of his face. His brother. His brother is injured. His dad is dead. And Lance… Lance… 

“Lance.” 

The name snaps through the fog as Keith realizes he has spoken out loud. He looks at Allura, kneeling by his side, and he doesn’t need to hear her response. Tears are on her face and she shakes her head. Gone. Lance is gone. His father is gone. Shiro. Keith’s hand balls into a fist where it rests against the pod. He leans his forehead down to rest against it as well. 

Don’t leave me. You’re all I have left. 

****

Despite his promise to the healer, Keith does not return to his own bed. Thanks to Allura’s pull, he is allowed to stay in Shiro’s room for the next two days. Allura visits frequently. She brings news from her father’s advisors and begins to fill in the missing pieces for Keith about what happened the day of the attack. Lotor’s generals had arrived, along with a force of Galra soldiers. Most of the soldiers were defeated in battle, though not without many Altean casualties. However, all four generals were able to escape, and they had taken Lance with them. Search parties had been dispatched. Each party was comprised of a single Guardian and as many soldiers as could be spared. Even civilians were volunteering to join the search. Allura was frequently upset when she came to visit. She argued that more search parties needed to be sent to find Lance, but the threat against the rest of the royal family could not be ignored either. Guardians were needed here too. Keith understood Allura’s frustration, but he also understood her father’s order. Guardians have a duty to the royal family. All of the royal family. They cannot abandon one to save another. It was something that Keith had known for almost his entire life. He understands the decision, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. 

As promised, Shiro wakes on the third day. The small shock of white hair has grown to cover nearly his entire forehead and he is still missing an arm, but otherwise he looks healthy. When Keith tells him about their father, Shiro wraps his remaining arm around Keith and holds him while they both sob. It has been a while since they’ve been this close. With Shiro assuming his new role as Allura’s Guardian, he had been so busy over the last year. It feels good to have him back like this, even under the circumstances. It almost makes Keith change his mind about what needs to be done. 

Almost. 

**** 

It has been nearly an hour since Keith arrived outside the throne room. He stands with his back to the wall, hands clasped behind him, eyes closed. A few people stare as they move through the hallway. Keith can tell by the way their footsteps slow as they pass. Do they think he looks odd, standing with his eyes closed, face blank? Probably. The people passing by are advisers and royalty, their footsteps soft due to the fact that they are wearing slippers rather than boots. They do not know that he is far from relaxed. They do not know the apprehension bubbling in Keith’s stomach. They do not know that he is concentrating on their steps, their soft words, their breath, the sound of the doors closing behind them. They do not know that this concentration is the only thing keeping him from running from this room and forgetting this whole plan. 

The few Guardians who pass by stare as well, but for a different reason. They would not be confused by the seemingly relaxed stance. They trained just as Keith was doing now. All Guardians must be able to fight without the use of their sight. The Guardian training grounds contain at least one person on any given day assuming this stance. Eyes closed, listening closely, feeling the air move around them, sensing the room with every other sense available to them. No, the Guardians are not confused at the exercise. They’re confused that Keith is here at all, seeking an audience with the King. 

Finally, his name is called. Keith enters the throne room, head bent as he approaches the King. When he reaches the steps to the throne, he sinks to one knee and waits for the King’s command. 

“Keith, please accept my strongest condolence for the loss of your father. He was a valiant soldier and a true friend. The world will not be the same without him.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“I was heartened to hear from my daughter that your brother is doing well.”

“He is, your majesty. Coran has already begun fitting him for a prosthetic arm so that he can continue his duties as a Guardian.”

“Is this the reason you have requested an audience today? To inquire of your brother’s position?”

“No, Your Majesty. His fitness for duty will be tested by the other Guardians and affirmed by the counsel, as is tradition. I came to apologize.”

“Apologize?”

“I am sorry, your majesty. I failed to protect your son, but I promise you that I will bring Prince Lance home.”

King Alfor is silent for a moment. Keith dares to look up. He wishes he had not. The pitying look on the Kings’ face makes his stomach sink. 

“Keith, you are not to blame. You are only a child. Men with twice your years of training were not able to prevent this attack.” 

“They were not his Guardian. I am.”

“No. You were not. You have only four bands. You are not a Guardian. Not yet. And though I have no doubt that you will become a warrior of renown, just as your father and brother were, we should have never allowed you to take on this responsibility for yourself. Perhaps if we had not, he…”

The King catches himself before he can finish, but Keith hears the unspoken words loud and clear. Perhaps if Lance had a real Guardian at his side, he wouldn’t have been taken. Perhaps if they hadn’t allowed the entire royal court to be complicit in Keith’s game of pretend, Lance would still be here. 

The King stands, signaling that Keith’s audience with him is at an end. 

“You fought valiantly, Keith, but it is out of your hands now. Our troops are searching for Lance. They will find him and make those who took him pay.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

Keith remains on his knee until the King has retreated to his private rooms, and then a little longer. He had hoped for the King’s blessing. Without it, any attempt to join the search for Lance would be impossible. Worse, it would be treason to abandon his duties here. Perhaps the King is right. Perhaps it is time to end this game of make-believe, of pretending that Lance is his and his alone to protect. Beneath his shirt, Keith can feel the holo-crystal that Lance had given him on Allura’s birthday. He places a hand to his chest, feeling the small stone and the beat of his own heart. 

It’s not pretend. Even if the King can’t see that, it’s not make-believe. Lance is Keith’s responsibility, and he will bring his Prince home. 

*****

Keith stares down at the neatly folded Guardian uniform. It’s been years since he has taken it off for anything other than cleaning, mending, or sleeping. This is his third uniform. The first had been a gift from the queen when he was eight years old. The second and third had been gifts from Lance when Keith had grown out of his other ones. Lately, Lance had taken to joking that if Keith didn’t hurry up and have another growth spurt, he’d be stuck with this uniform for the rest of his life. As Keith traces one bright red thread, he wonders if he’ll ever get to wear this uniform again. 

Turning away from the thought and the uniform, Keith begins stuffing his other belongings in his bag. Clothing. An extra pair of boots. A photo of his father and brother. 

“And just where do you think you’re going?”

Keith spins around, nearly dropping the rations he had been about to pack. Shiro is standing in the doorway, dressed in his guardian uniform, rings shining brightly on one arm. A cloak covers his right side, including the missing rings and limb. Shiro’s eyes dip down to the bag of rations in Keith’s hand.

“Keith, tell me you’re not planning on doing something stupid.”

His grip on the rations tightens and he turns back around to stuff them in his bag. He pulls the drawstring tight and slings the bag over his shoulder. 

“I’m going after them.”

“See? That would be something stupid.”

Keith tightens his grip on his bag. He doesn't need this. Not form Shiro, the one person who ought to understand. 

“It’s not stupid. Lance was my responsibility. I failed him.”

“He was not under your protection. You are only fifteen. You are not a guardian yet and no one could expect you to be.”

“I’ve been training to protect him my whole life. It doesn’t matter if I have the title or not. I know it’s my responsibility and you know it too. I’m going.”

Keith makes to step around Shiro, but the other man moves with him, blocking his path. They stare at each other, both fully determined to hold their ground, until Shiro finally sighs, his shoulders sagging. 

“Then I’m coming with you.”

Keith blinks in surprise. He wasn’t expecting this, and he’s not sure how to respond. It would be so much easier to have Shiro at his side. He’s tempted for a moment to agree, even though he knows it’s not possible. 

“You can’t. Your arm—”

“I’ll be fine.”

He won’t be fine. Keith knows Shiro has continued to spend time each day in a healing pod. It will be a while yet before he can go without. Besides, he has his own responsibilities here. 

“And what about Allura? What if they come after her again? With dad gone, you’re the only one left that can protect her.” 

Keith can tell by the look in Shiro’s eyes that he’s won the argument. Shiro knows his duty. He won’t abandon it, not for anything. 

“You’re the only family I have left now. I don’t want to lose you too.”

Suddenly, Keith’s mind is back in a dimly lit hospital room, crouched on the floor, whispering those same words at his brother’s feet. He was so sure that having Shiro back, healthy and alive, would make everything better, that he could survive as long as he had his brother with him. And now he is choosing to leave. He could change his mind still. He could stay here with Shiro. Except he can’t. He has his duty as well. Ignoring it was never an option. 

“You won’t lose me,” Keith says, forcing back the memories and the tears that threaten to come with them. “I’m coming back, and I’m bringing Lance with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo....? What do you think?


	3. The Search

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2 Years Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And chapter 3 is finally here! 
> 
> OK, this is a LOT later than intended, but work has taken over my life the past couple of months, so... yeah. It is what it is. 
> 
> Hopefully you are all doing OK out there, what with the whole... you know... global pandemic thing. (how weird is that to say?) Purely by coincidence, this chapter also has a lot of social distancing happening. Stay safe and I hope you like this latest chapter. 
> 
> One Warning for this chapter: torture and threats that are in fact sexual in nature are made. If that's something you prefer not to see, but you still want to keep reading this story, just let me know. I'm happy to send people the chapter without that bit.

Lotor’s generals take turns guarding Lance. He knows that they come and go as they are ordered, but he has no sense of any pattern to their shifts. He knows that two generals remain on the ship at all times, rotating shifts throughout the day, remaining for days or weeks before one or both switch shifts with another. Despite the fact that it has been two years since he was captured, Lance is never left unguarded. As if he could escape even without their watchful eyes. 

Two doors stand between Lance and the space station beyond. After that, a maze of halls with soldiers patrolling in pairs. Somewhere, there must be ships or escape pods, but none of the doors are marked. Lance had seen the outside of his prison only once, when they brought him here. Weeks of travel in a cramped cell had ended with him being dragged down the hallways, his legs barely able to hold his weight after so little use. Even in that state, Lance had made note of every detail that could aid in his escape. Now that two years have passed, Lance is no closer to coming up with a plan to use that information. He’d made it out of his cell a few times. Once he even made it through the door outside, only for a tight grip on the back of his shirt to yank him back into his prison. 

Two years. One brief glimpse outside of this room. That’s it. Lance thinks he would have died of boredom long ago if his captures hadn’t developed a bit of a soft spot for him. 

Ezor was the first to show any real interest in him. She was assigned to guard duty about two weeks after Lance arrived. Or at least, he thinks it was two weeks. In the beginning, it was difficult to tell how much time was passing. Hours could feel like days, yet somehow weeks could pass without him even realizing. When Ezor first appeared outside his cell, she surprised Lance by actually speaking to him. Even more surprising was that she expected him to answer. Her comments were filled with barbs about Alteans and Lance in particular. When he finally shot back with an insult to Ezor’s own appearance, she let out a shriek of laughter and clapped her hands in glee. Ezor wasn’t nice. Not to Lance, at least, but she was friendly in a way. She wanted to talk to him and to hear about his life, even if just to tease him about it. So he talked. He told her many things, though others he kept close to his chest. He didn’t talk about Keith or his mother. He was careful not to give away any information that might put his family or his people in danger, but it was clear that wasn’t what Ezor was after anyway. She wasn’t interrogating him. She was bored and looking for entertainment. 

Zethrid was the next to crack. She showed up one day with a small top and string. She tossed it into his cell as if it was an afterthought, before taking her usual seat in the corner. But when Lance made no attempt to look at the item, Zethrid sighed in clear frustration and demanded Lance hand the top back so she could demonstrate how it worked. She continued to bring small toys, a new one for each shift, and she continued to look annoyed at having to show Lance how they worked. That became a bit of a game in and of itself, with Lance pretending to be clueless on how to use even Altean toys, forcing Zethrid to demonstrate. He would have believed her frustration more if he couldn’t see that small smile that occasionally tugged at the corner of her mouth. 

It took months for Axca to even acknowledge Lance’s presence when she was on duty. She never said much to him, but one day she showed up with a book. She spent her entire shift reading and, when her time was up, she passed the book through the bars, almost as an afterthought adding, “I finished it. You can read it if you want.” After that, the books began to pile up. Unlike Zethrids toys, which always disappeared at the end of her shift, the books were allowed to stay. 

Narti never did warm up to Lance, but that was fine. She didn’t seem like the kind of person that would be warm towards anyone. Lance wasn’t even sure if she had the ability to speak. Even so, he liked it best when she was on duty. Though the others were clearly starting to like him, it was the kind of fondness you would show for a pet or an animal in the zoo. He was something interesting for them to play with, but they were not friends. He was still their prisoner and there was just no getting around that. Narti didn’t pretend otherwise. She did, however, let her cat wander into Lance’s cell to be pet. 

Regardless of the intent behind them, Lance finds some small measure of comfort in his guards’ attentions. They give his days meaning outside of wondering whether he will ever see his family again or wondering what will happen when his captors determine he is no longer useful. They also let him know when to be afraid. 

When Lotor is on the ship, the books and toys disappear. Conversations stop and even Narti’s cat keeps her distance. Sometimes Lotor comes to see Lance immediately. Sometimes he waits for days. Lance wonders if Lotor does this just to keep him on edge, or perhaps it’s only a coincidence. Maybe Lance ranks so low in Lotor’s list of concerns that he simply doesn’t remember to come see him. When Lotor does finally show up, he doesn’t speak. At least, not usually. Instead, he simply stands outside Lance’s cell, staring at him with completely unguarded contempt. Lance tries not to let his equal level of contempt show. Though the cut on his hand has long since healed, he remembers it like it was yesterday. Lance was never at the top of his class, but he’s smart enough to know not to make Lotor any angrier than he already is. 

Lance puts up with a few days of boredom and Lotor’s icy gaze, and then it’s back business as usual. Or at least, as usual as life can be these days. 

****

Fourteen steps, heel to toe. That’s the length of Lance’s cell. It’s not much of a distance to pace, and yet Lance may well have worn a grove in the tiles from his constant back and forth. Two weeks. It has been two weeks now since Lotor arrived on the ship and Lance is starting to go crazy. He hasn’t stayed this long since Lance was first taken and he’s starting to wonder if Lotor will ever leave. He came to see him once already. Lance had been sleeping then. Or at least, he had been pretending to sleep. It was the safest way to keep himself from saying anything or doing anything that might set the man off. 

But now it has been two weeks. Lance can’t pretend to sleep all the time, especially when he knows Lotor is still here. He’s up to something. He must be. Why else would he still be here? Why wouldn’t he just go? 

Fourteen steps. 

Heel toe. Heel toe. 

Fourteen steps back. 

Heel toe. Heel toe. 

Narti is on guard today. The cat’s eyes follow Lance’s movements, though he keeps his distance. 

When Lotor finally does return to Lance’s cell, it’s clear that he’s in a foul mood. He gives Narti a look and she silently rises to leave, her cat trailing after her. Then Lotor does something he never has done before. He opens the cell door and enters. Lance stumbles back. Fourteen steps, heel toe. There’s not far to go to keep his distance. 

Lotor fixes his gaze on Lance. The silence stretches on and Lance doesn’t know what to do. He tries not to let his fear show, but his skin is crawling with warning. Something is different. It’s been different for two weeks and if Lance only knew what that was he’d know what to say now, but no one told him what was going on. Instead, they kept him locked in a cell in silence for two weeks, fraying his nerves with every moment of uncertainty, and now… He can’t stop the words that tumble from his mouth. 

“What are you looking at?”

“A disappointment,” Lotor responds before falling back into silence. 

Lance glares at him, anger bubbling up in his gut and quickly overtaking his fear. 

“And whose fault is that? You’re the one who kidnapped me, remember? I had nothing to do with it.”

Lotor doesn’t even seem to hear him. His expression doesn’t change at all. 

“If only they had brought back your sister. She would be my bride and I would have an heir by now.”

Lance clenches his fists, disgust mixing with anger and spurring him on. 

“She never would have married you and she definitely wouldn’t have slept with you.”

That gets a response. Lotor’s eyes narrow. He steps forward, but Lance refuses to step back. He will not give any ground to this monster. Not today. 

“Do you think she would have had a choice in the matter?” Lotor asks, his voice low. It sends a chill up Lance’s spine, but it also feeds the hot pit of anger in his stomach. 

“She would have killed herself before she let you touch her.” The slap comes out of nowhere. One second Lotor is as still as a statue. The next second, Lance’s head snaps to the side, his ears ringing from the force of the blow. Lotor grabs Lance by the throat, shoving him back into the wall. The impact makes him see stars. 

“Your sister would have been under my control, just as completely as you are now. You are powerless here.” Without warning, Lotor presses his lips to Lance’s, rough and hard. Lance is still too dazed by the blows to his face and head to react, but as the fog clears from his mind, one word rings out. Stop! 

Lance tries to turn his face away, but Lotor’s grip just tightens. Lance can feel claws pressing into his throat and his jaw. He squeezes his eyes shut and holds his breath. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. The words stream through his head, shouting and overlapping, drowning out everything else. Lotor finally pulls back, but Lance can still feel the Galra’s breath against his face. 

“Look at me.” 

Lance keeps his eyes shut. 

“I said look at me.” Lotor grabs Lance by the chin. He can feel the blood trickling down from where Lotor’s claws are piercing the skin on his jaw. He opens his eyes. “You have no power. Say it.” Lance is silent. Lotor slams Lance’s head against the wall again. “Say it.” 

Lance won’t do it. He won’t say the words. Lotor’s free hand drops down to Lance’s hip. His thump dips into the waistband of Lance’s pants, pulling the fabric down. 

“Say the words or I will prove exactly how little power you have.” Lotor tugs at the waistband again. 

“I have no power.” Lance nearly chokes on the words. He feels like he’s going to throw up or cry, maybe both, but he won’t let himself do either in front of Lotor. They’re just words, he tells himself. They don’t mean anything. They’re just words. 

Lotor steps back, finally looking satisfied. 

“Axca tells me that you have tried to escape twice since you’ve been here. You understand, of course, how futile that is. You will not try again. Understood?”

Lance nods. 

“Say, the words.”

“I understand.”

Lotor smiles and turns to leave. When he reaches the door, he pauses, looking back over his shoulder at Lance. 

“You’re all alone here, little prince. No one is coming for you. No one will help you. Remember that the next time I speak to you, and remember what happens if you fail to hold your tongue.”

With that final threat, Lotor is gone. Narti returns shortly after that. She sits outside, quite as ever. After a few minutes, however, her cat’s ears perk up. He stands, stretches, then slips through the bars to curl up at Lance’s side. That’s when Lance finally allows himself to cry. 

“It’s alright,” a voice whispers in his ear. “I’m here with you. I promised, remember? 

Lance shakes his head. 

“You died,” he tells the voice. “I saw you die.” 

“Don’t think about that,” the voice chides. “I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere.” 

Lance curls himself into the wall and lets himself believe. Just for a while. 

“Don’t leave me,” he whispers.

“I’m right here,” Keith whispers back.

****

“Happy Birthday.”

Keith frowns at the screen. The date blinks red in the lower right-hand corner, confirming his initial thought in response to Shiro’s words. 

“It’s not my birthday”

“It’s close though.”

“It’s not for another three weeks.”

Shiro rolls his eyes and sighs. 

“That’s close enough. Besides, I wanted to make sure I got a chance to say it before another month passes without you checking in.”

Keith bristles at that. 

“I’m on a covert mission. It’s not as if I can always check in on a regular schedule.”

“I know,” Shiro says, raising his arms in surrender. His right arm looks different than the last time they talked. A new prosthetic? Or maybe just a re-design of the previous one. Shiro drops his hands before Keith can figure it out. “I’m not trying to make you feel guilty. I’m just saying… I miss you.”

Keith nods, looking away from the screen. He wants to tell Shiro that he misses him too, but he doesn’t. 

Two years, he’s been at this. It’s been hard, but he has figured out how to make it less hard. Don’t talk about feelings. Don’t talk about the past. Don’t talk about the people you used to know. Keep conversations quick. Just the facts. Just the updates. Promise to go home soon, but don’t let yourself believe it. It’s been two years and Lance still feels as far out of reach as he ever did. There’s no telling how much longer it will take to find him. Don’t think about that. Just take what you need to continue the mission. 

“You said you had some new information for me,” Keith finally says, looking back at the screen. He tries not to focus too much at the disappointment on Shiro’s face. Thankfully, Shiro knows the drill by now. His face turns serious and for a second, Keith doesn’t recognize his brother behind the professional façade of the Lieutenant Commander of the Guardians. 

“We do. It’s about the colonies. There have been disappearances, attacks by the Galra.”

“That’s not new, though. The Galra have been attacking our colonies since before the war began.”

“Yes, but we always assumed those attacks came from Zarkon. There was another attack recently, but luckily we had a Guardian stationed there. He wasn’t able to fend off the attack entirely, but he did capture one of the soldiers, alive. He was working for Lotor. Not Zarkon.”

Keith’s breath catches in his throat. They’d known that Lotor was responsible for the attack on Allura’s birthday for over a year now, ever since they confirmed the identity of three of his generals present at the palace that day. Unfortunately, that had been the only substantial lead they’d managed to track down since Lance had been captured. Lotor may be a Prince, but his comings and goings were mysterious even to the Galra. No one knew where he was or even what he was doing. Until now. 

“What else did he tell you?” Keith asks, crowding closer to the screen. “Does he know where Lotor is? Has he been in direct contact with him?”

“I’m sorry Keith, but we only know that Lotor was behind the attack on the colony. The prisoner managed to get his hands on the Guardian’s blade and… he took his own life before he could be stopped.”

Keith feels like throwing something. They’d finally found a new lead and that Guardian had been clumsy enough to let it slip through his fingers. Now they have nothing! No, not nothing. The colonies. Attacks and kidnappings. That’s something. A place to start at least. And luckily, Keith has a lead of his own to pursue as well. With this new information, there’s a chance he will be able to dig up something of real value. 

“Thank you, Shiro. I know the risk you’re taking by telling me this.” 

Shiro only shrugs, as if it’s no big deal. It is though. Sharing privileged information, even with someone who’s trying to be helpful, could get Shiro thrown in jail. It would definitely get him thrown out of the Guardian Order if anyone knew. Or at least, if anyone other than Allura and Coran knew. Keith has no idea how Shiro had convinced the two of them to work with him, or even if they knew exactly what they were helping Shiro do, but these transmissions would not be possible without their help. They must know that what they are doing is illegal at the very least. Perhaps, like Keith, they are willing to do whatever it takes to get Lance back, whether that has been sanctioned or not. Whatever the reason, Keith is grateful. 

A series of beeps on the console lets him know that they’ve almost reached the limits of this call. His ship will be out of range in another few minutes. Best to keep these conversations short anyway. There will be less of a chance of someone making it through Coran’s security measures and tapping into their call. Besides, Keith has somewhere to be today. 

“It may be a while before I can call again,” Keith says in a rush. “I met some people who I think might be able to help and… I have to pass a test before they’ll trust me with any information.” 

“What sort of test.”

“I don’t know, but… I think it’s going to be difficult and I’m not sure if I’ll…” Keith stops himself. “I don’t know when I’ll be back in communication, so don’t worry if you don’t hear from me at our next check-in. I’ll contact you as soon as I’m able.”

“Keith, is there something you’re not telling me?”

Keith glances at the console again. Just a few more seconds before the signal will be lost. 

“I’ll be fine. I’ll talk to you later, OK?”

“Be safe Keith. I lo—”

Shiro’s image blinks out mid-sentence. There’s a lump in Keith’s throat, but he tries to ignore it. He can’t let himself be bothered by sentimentality. He has more important things to do. He picks up the black and purple uniform from the co-pilot chair. It’s time to get ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. 
> 
> As always, I love to hear your thoughts in the comments. 
> 
> Next Chapter: Space Pirates!


	4. New Allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith meets some new allies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, this is the last time jump. Another two years (ish) later. We've got some new but familiar faces this chapter, so I hope you guys like it!

Lance wonders if the reason Lotor hates him so much is because even after four years, he still has yet to find a use for him. A part of him is grateful for this. That last defiant part of his soul relishes in the clear frustration of his captor. Serves him right, after all. Lance feeds that small defiant voice as often as he can, and in those moments he’s happy to be useless. Other days, he wonders if being useful might be easier. He touches his face gingerly. The flesh is hot beneath his fingers and sends a jolt of pain all the way back to his ear. He twitches the ear next, bracing for more pain, but it’s fine. Minimal damage, then. 

Lotor brought him dinner today. A few spare guards had set up a table with two chairs in the corner of his cell and then set the table with a meal far finer than anything Lance had eaten in a long time. Lotor sat down and invited Lance to join him, a warm smile on his lips. 

After all this time, that smile unnerves Lance more than anything else. The sneers and violence he understands. After all, Galra and Alteans are mortal enemies. But then there are times when Lotor is… kind. Though the act Lotor puts forward is flawless, Lance isn’t fooled. He knows these moments aren’t real. He knows they’re part of some twisted game Lotor has been playing with him from the start. He just doesn’t know what Lotor is trying to accomplish. Maybe he’s just trying to confuse Lance. If that’s the case, he’s doing an excellent job. 

After everything was ready, Lotor had urged Lance to take a seat, still smiling. Lance sat down, but he didn’t eat. He was too uneasy for that. If he had known the offence that inaction would cause, however, he might have at least made an effort. The feeling of his head slamming into the wall was just as unexpected as the meal had been. Lance’s chair tipped as his weight shifted, dumping him onto the ground. He made no move to get up, huddling in his corner and waiting for the next blow. He could hear Lotor’s harsh breath from above him. Lance waited, forcing himself to count in his head. One. Two. Three. Four. It wasn’t until he reached forty-seven that he heard the screech of metal on metal as Lotor pushed his chair back. At fifty-one he was closing the cell door and at fifty-eight, the outer door sealed closed behind him. 

Now Lance sits in his cell alone. The food is still on the table. Even cold, it will be better than what Lance usually gets, but he has no appetite for it. Axca is back in the outer room, now that Lotor has left. Her head is buried in a book, but Lance can’t tell if she’s actually reading or just pretending. 

Most days, the generals are kind to him. Unlike Lotor’s manipulations, Lance is fairly sure that Axca and the others’ kindness is genuine. They actually like him. He knows they do. 

Except that when Lotor is here and every one of them turns a blind eye to the abuse and the beatings. They are letting this happen. They are holding him captive. They could end all this if they wanted to and they don’t. 

And then they’re kind. 

He stopped worrying so much about the contradiction years ago. It is what it is. Complicated and conflicting, but true all the same. They’ve come to an understanding, at least. When Lotor is on the ship, they pretend they don’t like him and Lance pretends right along with them. After a while, this starts to feel like a kindness as well. It’s easier to hate them when they’re not being kind, and Lance needs to focus his anger somewhere after Lotor’s visits. 

So Lance sits in his corner, feeling the sting and ache on his cheekbone, feeling the flesh already begin to swell, and he hates his captors. Every last one of them. 

****

Keith stumbles through the airlock, keeping on his feet by sheer force of will. The soldiers can’t be far behind. He has to get the ship in the air. He places his palm on the control panel and the door to the cockpit slides open. Keith ignores the bloody smear left on the panel and slides into the pilot seat, entering in the first coordinates that come to mind. Altea. Home. Doesn’t matter that he’s at least a month’s flight away. Doesn’t matter that he’ll change the coordinates as soon as he’s out of orbit. The ship just needs a direction before auto-pilot can take over. Normally Keith wouldn’t think of turning his ship’s controls over to the computer while he’s still being pursued, but given the circumstances, there’s not much else he can do. 

The ship takes off and Keith hears a few sharp, metallic tings. Weapon fire reflecting off the hull, most likely. Pointless. Altean shield technology may be far superior, but not much beats the metal used on Galra ships, even a small transport like Keith’s. 

As the ship breaches the outer atmosphere, he breathes a sigh of relief. No one seems to be following. He got away clean. Keith carefully extracts the drive he’d recovered from his pocket. For all the trouble he went through, the Blade better be right about this intelligence. He plugs the device into his ship’s database and is about to begin downloading the information when the proximity alert goes off. 

Keith spins in his chair, hands flying over controls as he searches for the Galra ship. They can’t have followed him this quickly, not without knowing where he was going already, not when it would have taken them at least twenty minutes to get back to their own ships and get airborne. Before he can locate the ships, his own vessel pitches to the side, metal grinding on metal, and then gravity shifts abruptly. Keith looks out the window just in time to see the bay door of a much larger ship close in front of him.  
Impossible. 

Not only had his sensors failed to detect the other ship until it was right on top of him, but the other pilot had somehow managed to scoop Keith’s ship into their docking bay in mere seconds. 

No sense worrying about it now though. There’s a high pitched grinding coming from ship’s outer door, which means whoever ambushed him is just outside and coming in soon. Keith grabs his blade and surges to his feet. The world spins for one dangerous moment before righting itself. Keith drags in a deep breath and tries to focus. 

The outline of the door is glowing red-hot when it finally caves inward. 

“Hands up!” 

The person that pushes through the door isn’t what Keith expects. For starters, he’s not Galra. He’s human. Keith had run into more and more humans over the past few years, but they were still a fairly rare sight. Another human climbs into the ship behind the first. The second one is much shorter and unlike the first, they’re not holding a weapon. Yet somehow, they manage to look even more intimidating than the first. 

“You heard him. Hands up!”

Keith doesn’t move. 

“We’re not going to say it again,” the shorter human says, taking a step forward. They really should be staying behind the big guy if they plan to keep threatening someone without a weapon, but Keith isn’t about to tell them and lose his only advantage in this situation. “You’ve got five seconds to drop the sword or Hunk here is going to add one more Galra to his list of kills.”

Galra? 

The mask, Keith realizes. They think he’s a Galra because of the Blade uniform, or perhaps because of the ship. 

Keith doesn’t drop the blade, but he does drop out of his fighting stance, letting the blade hang loosely at his side while he raises his other hand slowly, palm out to show there’s nothing there. Then he deactivates the mask. He can see the surprise flash across the faces of his captors when they realize he’s not Galra. 

“I think there’s been some kind of mistake,” Keith says, pushing his hood back as well. 

The bigger of the two humans lowers his gun and looks to the other. The second human, though clearly surprised, doesn’t look any more trusting than they did a minute ago. 

Keith takes a step forward and suddenly the world tilts again. White spots swim before his eyes and blackness seeps into the edge of his vision, closing in around him until he’s swallowed whole by it. He is unconscious before he even hits the ground. 

****

Keith can hear voices, though the words don’t make any sense. They’re garbled like listening to a translation unit trying to learn a new language for the first few minutes. Everything is still dark. He tries to open his eyes, but then realizes that they already are open. Slowly, the world around him begins to come back into focus. He doesn’t recognize where he is. Dim lights illuminate a mass of loose wires hanging from the ceiling. He’s lying on something hard, he realizes, and there’s something pressing into his side. He raises a hand to feel the bandage over his ribs. It’s heavy and more wires are trailing off to the side. A dark-skinned face swims into his line of sight. The face is smiling. 

“Back in the land of the living! Finally.”

Keith bolts to his feet. Or at least, he tries to. He barely gets his feet onto the ground before another wave of dizziness hits him. He feels a strong arm around his waist, helping him sit back onto the table, a voice mumbling for him to take it easy at the same time. Keith takes a moment to let the world stop spinning before he focuses on the two humans once again. 

“Where am I?” 

“You’re on our ship,” the smaller one says, looking completely unimpressed. 

“What? Why?”

“Believe me, I was against it.” 

The bigger guy glares at his companion. 

“We couldn’t just leave him.” 

“Why not? He works for the Galra.” 

“I don’t work for the Galra,” Keith says, his voice dripping with venom, despite still being a little out of breath. The smaller human leans closer, their face twisted in disbelief. 

“Yeah? Then how did you end up wearing their clothes, using their tech, and flying one of their ships?” 

“I stole it.” 

The smaller human blinks in surprise, but the big guy actually laughs. 

“See?” he says, nudging his friend. “I told you we could trust this guy. I’m Hunk, by the way.” Hunk holds out his hand, but the other human slaps it down immediately. 

“Stop giving him information. We can’t trust him. He just admitted to being a thief.” 

“Yeah, well, we’re kind of thieves too,” Hunk says with a shrug. 

“We’re pirates. There’s a difference.” 

Hunk just rolls his eyes and turns back to Keith.

“So why did you steal their stuff?” 

Keith hesitates, weighing his options. He’s still trying to figure out how much he’ll have to reveal to convince them to let him go when the smaller human huffs out a sigh of frustration and stomps back to one of the consoles, clearly done with this conversation. 

“You don’t trust us, do you?” Hunk asks, leaning against the table. 

“You attacked me,” Keith says, because it seems like Hunk is actually waiting for an answer. 

“Only because we thought you were Galra, which of course, I’m assuming now was probably the point. Were you trying to infiltrate them or escape them?” The other human turns slightly but keeps their eyes on the console. They are trying (and failing) to look un-interested. 

Keith doesn’t say anything.

“Come on!” Hunk groans. “We saved you. You probably would have bled out if we didn’t bring you back here. Just give us something.” 

“I’m…” Keith hesitates. Hunk is right. Keith has to give them some kind of information if he wants to get off this ship again, has to give them some reason to either trust him or at the very least to not view him as a threat. “I’m looking for someone.” 

“Is it this guy?” 

The smaller human presses a button on their console and an image displays above it. It’s Keith and Lance as children. Keith’s hand flies to his chest, looking for the necklace that he already knows isn’t there.

“Give it back!” Keith struggles to his feet, ready to fight despite the fact that he can barely stand. 

“Not until you tell us who he is and why a Guardian of the Altean royal family is looking for him.” The human shoots back. They reach into a bag and pull out four silver rings, which Keith belatedly realizes are no longer on his arms, where he has worn them beneath his Blade suit for years.

“I checked your ship logs. You thought you erased the communications, but you didn’t go deep enough. Wasn’t hard to find your last conversation with someone named Kolovian. You should be more careful about that.” 

Keith’s jaw is clenched so tight that it takes him a moment to release the muscles enough to speak. 

“What do you want?” 

“I want a straight answer,” The human says, leaning forward. The silver rings are still in their hand. “Who are you and what are you doing out here?” 

“I’m a Guardian.” Keith says, still trying to push down his anger enough to get out more than a few words. 

“Yeah,” they say, jingling the rings. “We know that.” 

“I’m Guardian to the Altean Prince. He was kidnapped four years ago by the Galra. I’m bringing him home.” 

They stare at each other for a few tense minutes, before the human finally sighs and drops Keith’s rings onto the console. Hunk seems to breathe a sigh of relief as well as the tension defuses. 

“OK. I get it. And I hope you find him. We’ll drop you at the next port.”

“Pidge—"

“Wait, what do you mean? What about my ship?”

The human (Pidge?) doesn’t even bother looking at him. 

“It’s not your ship anymore. It’s ours.” 

“I knew you couldn’t be trusted!” Keith takes a step towards the human, but suddenly Hunk is in his path. His hands are held up in peace, but he’s clearly not going to let Keith get any closer to his friend. 

“Just give us a minute? OK? Pidge, can we talk?” 

Keith keeps a close eye on both humans as they retreat to the far corner of the room. They’re speaking quietly, but Keith has always had extremely good hearing. 

“You heard him,” Hunk whispers. “He’s looking for someone, same as us. We can’t just take his stuff.” 

“We’ve done it a dozen times before. I didn’t hear you whining about it then,” Pidge spits back. 

“That was different. This guy’s trying to do the same thing we are. Besides, he might have information that could help us. He could be an ally.”

“We don’t need allies. We need money to buy tech and to bribe guards. Our best option is to sell his ship and take his tech and leave his ass behind.” 

“I can get you money,” Keith says, startling the humans. “Altean hearing,” he says, by way of explanation. “I’m guessing it’s a bit more perceptive than humans.”  
Pidge’s eyes flicker to Keith’s ears, but they don’t stay there for long. Pidge doesn’t waste any time, quickly focusing on what’s important. 

“How much money?”

“More money than that lousy ship will get you. I can get you the price of a hundred ships. Help me find the prince and the King will give you whatever reward you ask for.”  
Pidge glares at him. 

“Don’t be writing checks your ass can’t cash.”

“I…” Keith blinks. “I don’t know what that means.”

“It means don’t make a promise you can’t keep,” Hunk says. He’s looking at Keith with the same suspicion that Pidge is, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “The price of a hundred ships? You’re sure?” 

“On my honor as a Guardian.” 

“Yeah, well, you’re not a Guardian anymore, are you? You’re a spy.” 

Keith can’t disagree, so he simply waits for their decision. Hunk is looking at Pidge, something indecipherable in his eyes. Pidge is very pointedly trying not to look back at him, but they finally crack, regardless.

“OK, fine,” Pidge says, shooting a glare at Hunk. “But if this goes south, that’s on you.”

Hunk surprises Keith by grinning, ear to ear. 

“Alright.” He holds out his hand to Keith. “I guess we’re partners now.”

*****

“You’ve grown since my last trip.”

It’s the second time Lotor has visited him within a week. Lance is expecting the visit, of course. Zethrid has been on guard duty for four days now and she has been grumpy for all of them. 

“Almost as tall as your sister now, I’m sure,” Lotor continues. “Though that is where the similarity ends, isn’t it? Such a shame.” 

Lance wonders if this is what Lotor wanted to talk about over dinner the other day. He doesn’t know why. He stopped responding to Lotor’s taunts about Allura ages ago, so why would he be trying that again now? 

“She is so beautiful. More so than you even remember her to be, I’ll bet. The memory does us such a disservice. Do you remember her hair? The color of starlight. So unlike yours. The color of mud. Tell me. How is it that you look so unlike the king and queen? Perhaps the rumors about your bastard heritage are true.”

Lance bites his tongue to keep from smiling. As far as taunts go, Lotor could not have chosen a weaker one. His features have been a subject of rumor and gossip since his childhood, despite his strong resemblance to both a great aunt and a great great grandfather, both of whose portraits hang in the walls of the palace. Keith once punched a boy that Lance had gone to school with for having the audacity to mention those rumors to his face. Lance had appreciated the sentiment at the time, but it wasn’t necessary. Lance knew who he was and no spiteful rumors could change that. 

“I will have her for my queen eventually, you know. It’s only a matter of time one way or another. Perhaps they won’t be so foolish and one day they’ll accept my offer.”  
Lance’s ears twitch. Offer? His eyes dart to Lotor only to find a satisfied smirk resting on the man’s lips. 

“I make the offer every year, you know. On the anniversary of your birth, I send a message to your father and sister. ‘You can have him back. Your son. Your brother. You can end his misery. I will return him to you. In exchange for your princess’s hand in marriage. You decide. Make your princess a queen or your prince will remain a prisoner.’ Three times I have made this offer, and three times they chose to leave you in my hands.”

“I don’t believe you.” Lance forces his eyes back to the spot on the wall he had been staring at since Lotor arrived. It’s not true. It’s just one of his tricks. It’s all part of the game. Don’t engage. 

“Yes you do. You know that Allura is the more valuable member of your family. Everyone knows this. That’s why no one is willing to trade her for you. I admit, I knew the deal was a long shot from the beginning, but it’s been nearly four years. They have to know by now that they’ll never find you on their own. Even if Alfor feels no love for his dead wife’s bastard son, Alteans are supposed to value all life. What do you think?” Lotor takes Lance’s hand in his, his fingers finding Lance’s pinky and settling against the lowest joint. Lance tries not to show fear, but he can’t help the way his body tenses. Nothing good ever comes from Lotor being this close. “Should we see if he accepts this time? Maybe we can persuade him if we send a couple pieces of you along.”

Lance tugs his hand out of Lotor’s grip, clutching it to his chest. He tries to step back, but his shoulders hit the wall. Lotor chuckles. He reaches out again, this time trailing his hand along the side of Lance’s face. 

“Don’t worry. I would never damage my prize.” His thumb strokes across the bruise on Lance’s cheekbone. “At least not much.”

****

It takes a week for Pidge to find Lotor’s base. With the data from Keith’s last Blade mission, they are able to narrow their search down to a few dozen planets. Pidge’s sensors manage to narrow it down even further to a space station, orbiting a moon that’s only three days flight from their current location. 

“What do you mean we have to wait?” Keith’s skin is practically itching with how close they are, and now Pidge is refusing to make a move. And for what?

“I mean we have to wait,” Pidge says, her voice rising to match Keith’s. “Unless of course you want to get caught and killed, then by all means, go on your merry way.”

“I won’t get caught. I’ve snuck onto hundreds of Galra ships.”

“Yeah, but they didn’t know you were coming.”

“Lotor doesn’t know I’m coming now either.”

“Maybe not you specifically, but he knows he can’t hide forever. Sooner or later, an Altean is bound to find this place. There’s no way he hasn’t taken precautions, and you Alteans are easy to detect.”

Keith blinks, confused. 

“What do you mean?”

Pidge sighs. 

“How do you think I found your Prince to begin with?” When Keith continues to stare, completely clueless, Pidge sighs again and grabs a metal rod from their dashboard. They flip a switch and point the rod at the wall. A low, slow, clicking emanates from the speaker. They move the rod to point towards Hunk. The clicking speeds up, but not my much. When the rod moves to Keith, the clicking goes crazy. The difference is so pronounced that Keith jumps a little when he hears it. Pidge flips the switch again and the instrument goes silent. “Every living thing in the galaxy contains quintessence, but Alteans are packed with the stuff. When I connected to the Galra satellite system, I just scanned for any traces of Alteans. Then I disregarded any non-cloaked signals. I figure if Lotor was stupid enough not to cloak his base of operations, your people would have found him ages ago. That narrowed it down to two locations, one of them being us.”

“Wait, Keith says, sinking back into his seat. “You said they were cloaked. If that’s true, how did you find them?”

Pidge shrugs. 

“There’s no way to completely mask the amount of quintessence an Altean possesses. The best you can do is get it down to just a little more than everyone else. Or at least, that’s the best most people can do. Lucky for you, Hunk and I are not most people. Give us a few hours and we’ll be able to mask even the slightest hint of your presence, both on the ship and off. Then we can leave.”

Keith nods and watches as the two humans leave the room. It’s just a few hours, he tells himself. Then a few days. He has been waiting years to find Lance. A few days is nothing. It’s fine. 

It’s not fine. 

Keith has never been so close and now his mind is reeling with everything that could go wrong. He could get caught. Pidge’s readings could be wrong and Lance might not be there at all. He might already be dea— 

No. 

Keith won’t think like that. He can’t think like that. Not now that they’re so close. 

He needs a distraction. 

Keith grabs his bayard and makes his way to the cargo deck. He’d seen an old Altean training bot in there a few days ago. With any luck, he could get it working again and get some training in. He will need to be at the top of his game for this mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold on Lance! They're coming for you! 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this latest chapter. As always, I love to hear your thoughts in the comments.


	5. The Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Rescue

Lance paces in his cell. It’s been days since Lotor visited him. Weeks, even. Maybe. Lance forgets to count sometimes. It’s definitely been at least one week, though. He’s sure of that. Even so, he still can’t stop thinking about Lotor’s words. 

“Every year, I make them an offer.”

It can’t be true. 

Except… it could be. 

His father would never trade his sister. She’s the heir. An arranged marriage between Lotor and Allura wouldn’t just be cruel to her. It could put the entire Altean Empire in danger.  
No, refusing would be the smart thing to do. The only thing to do. 

It still hurt.

If Lotor was sending messages to Altea, someone should have been able to track them. They should have been able to find Lance. And if they hadn’t arrived yet… that meant that his father hadn’t just decided that there were some things in the world more important than Lance. He had decided that Lance was no longer important at all. 

A whoosh of air announced Zethrid’s arrival. She had a tray in her hands. Dinner time. 

When he first came to this place, everyone had been so careful. Open the door. Close the door. Lock the door. “Up against the wall.” Open the cell door. Place the tray on the floor. Close the cell. Wait and watch. Make sure Lance ate everything. 

Over the years, his guards had gotten sloppier. Sometimes Narti would leave the cell door open as he ate, sitting in the entrance, silent as always, her cat curled up on Lance’s lap. Sometimes Ezor would pretend to steal food off his plate, just to get him riled up enough to eat everything out of spite. Then she would pat his cheek, affectionately, before she left. Sometimes Acxa would bring him something special. His favorite was something she called chocolate, a delicacy from some tiny planet across the galaxy. And sometimes, Zethrid forgets to close the door behind her. 

Lance had thought about this chance for years, always chickening out at the last moment, but today is different. Today he knows that he is on his own. He knows that rescue is never going to come. Today he knows that any escape is up to him alone. 

He waits for Zethrid to unlock the cell door, and then he flies into action. 

Lance throws his entire weight at the door, knocking the tray from Zethrid’s hands and slamming the bars directly into her face. She stumbles and Lance runs, ignoring the pain where his shoulder hit the bars. He doesn’t pay any attention to where he’s going. It’s not like he knows where anything is on this ship anyway. All he can hope is that blind luck leads him to the escape pods. 

Instead, he turns a corner and runs straight into Lotor. 

The impact knocks them both to the ground and Lance stares, completely frozen in place. 

No. Lotor was supposed to be gone. The generals had gone back to normal again, hadn’t they? Lance can’t remember. He hadn’t been paying attention. He just assumed. Lotor had made his threat. He should have left. He always left after that and he was always gone for weeks. Months, even. He didn’t stay. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He—

Lance’s thoughts are cut short by the hand that closes around his throat, lifting him from the ground. He struggles to get his feet under himself to relieve some of the pressure. It helps, but just barely. 

Lotor’s face is inches from Lance’s. He can see the fury in those yellow eyes, and he knows what’s coming next. 

The punch to the gut knocks what little air was left in Lance’s lungs out of him and he crumples back to the ground. Lotor is shouting something above him, but Lance doesn’t hear it. He’s already retreating inside himself, his mind detaching from his body as the blows begin to rain down. 

A familiar voice speaks in his mind, one he hasn’t heard out loud for years, but that comes to him any time he needs it. 

Don’t fight back, Keith whispers. 

You’ll only make it worse.

Just let it happen.

Then let yourself forget. 

You’re not there. You’re here. In your mind. With me. No matter what happens out there, he can’t reach you in here.

Finally, the world begins to re-focus. His body aches, but it seems to be over. Lotor stands over him, breathing hard, but calmer than before. He takes a few more deep breaths, then nudges Lance with his foot. Lance curls up even tighter, muscles tensing in anticipation, but the blow doesn’t come. 

“Pathetic,” Lotor mumbles under his breath. “Take him back to his cell.”

Lance gasps when he feels a hand on his arm and quickly bites his tongue, trying not to let out the whimper of pain that tries to force its way out. Two guards drag him back to his cell. Lance hadn’t even seen them before. He wonders briefly if they had been there for the entire beating or if they had arrived later. Then he decides it doesn’t matter and focuses instead on not crying out when they dump him onto the floor of his cell. 

The guards leave, locking both the cell and the door to the room this time. Lance drags himself to a corner, cradling his hand against his chest. There’s something wrong with his fingers, but he’s too tired to try to figure it out now. Instead, he rests his head against the wall and closes his eyes. The whimpers dropping from his lips can’t be stopped now, nor can the tears that begin to flow. 

***

Keith groans in frustration. They are so close, but it seems like every step they take is met with another delay. First it was finding the base itself, in orbit around a gas giant. Then it was developing shields to hide his and Lance’s Altean quintessence. Then Pidge parked them in orbit around a moon on the edge of the solar system so they could plot their “get-away drive” in case the Galra spot them before they’re finished. And now, Pidge is refusing to budge yet again. 

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell us exactly how you plan to get on that ship,” Pidge says, arms crossed firmly across their chest. 

“I thought you could cloak us?” 

“I can cloak the ship so it won’t show up on their sensors, but I can’t make us invisible, Keith. I’m pretty sure they would notice a whole ship flying into a docking bay.” 

Keith does not appreciate their sarcasm, nor does he appreciate these constant delays. He may not have a plan for everything, but so what? In Keith’s experience, plans never work out as intended. You have to think on your feet. Unfortunately, Pidge isn’t going anywhere without a plan, so he’ll have to think of something. 

“How close can you get us?” 

“We can get as close as we want. We just can’t land.” 

Keith nods, a plan beginning to form in his head. 

“Just get me close and I’ll get on the ship myself.” 

Hunk turns to face them from where he was working on two miniature dampening devices to hide Lance and Keith’s quintessence. 

“How are you going to get on the ship? We don’t have any shuttles.” 

“I don’t need one. My suit will protect me just fine.” 

“Wait… you’re talking about launching yourself at their base and… what? Just hoping you can grab hold before you float off into open space?” Hunk asks, staring at him incredulously. 

“I’ve done it before.” 

Hunk shakes his head like he’s just laid eyes on the craziest person in the galaxy. Who knows. Maybe he has. It still doesn’t change the fact that Keith is certain he can do it. 

“Fine,” Pidge says, waving off Hunk and his concerns. Hunk frowns at them, but he turns back around to finish his work regardless. “So, let’s say you manage to get onto the ship.  
How are you planning on getting back with your prince? I don’t suppose you have and extra spacesuit in your pocket?”

“We can’t fly a ship onto the base—"

“Exactly!” Hunk says, not looking up from his work. 

“But what’s to stop us from flying one out?” 

Pidge is starting to grin at Keith now. Apparently, Keith’s kind of crazy matches up just fine with Pidge’s. 

“You’re planning to steal a ship?” Hunk asks, turning back around to look at them. 

“Depends.” Keith doesn’t take his eyes off Pidge. “Can you find out where the hangar is?” 

Pidge’s grin widens. 

“Piece of cake.” 

Keith frowns. 

“Is… is that a yes?” 

***

Keith watches as the hull of the space station gets closer. From where he sits, magnetic clamps on his gloves and boots activated and keeping him firmly attached to the humans’ ship, Lotor’s base looks enormous. He keeps expecting Pidge to slow the ship. They agreed to 50 meters. That is about as close as Pidge can get without risking nudging the station and if Keith’s conversion to Altean units is correct, it should be a fairly straightforward jump. 

Unfortunately, he did not account for the size of the station. He feels closer than he really is, and he’s starting to worry that he won’t be able to accurately judge the distance for the jump. Fortunately, Pidge had one last trick up their sleeve. Just next to Keith, magnetized as tightly to the hull of their ship as he is, sits a tiny maintenance bot from Keith’s ship. Pidge had reprogrammed the bot to their own specifications over the last few days and had affectionately named him Rover. The tiny robot was now capable of unlocking doors and, if necessary, helping Keith course correct a mis-timed jump. 

“Nearly there,” Pidge’s voice says over the intercoms. “I’m lining you up with the cargo entrance closest to Lance’s location. Ready to drop in 5… 4… 3… 2… GO!”

Keith releases his grip on the ship and launches, inertia from the ship’s movement as well as his own jump lining him up almost perfectly with the cargo bay door. He misses by a couple inches, but he’s able to secure himself to the hull of the base without trouble. Rover, who had followed him closely, now zooms over to the lock. A few seconds later, the cargo bay door opens and Keith slips inside. It only takes a second for the bay to re-pressurize and then Keith slips into the hallway as quick as he can, in case anyone comes to investigate. He won’t be leaving this way, of course. The shuttles are unfortunately on the other side of the base, but there are some escape pods closer to where Lance is being kept. Or at least, where they assume Lance is being kept. 

“You sure it’s this way?” Keith asks, checking the hallway once more for guards before he darts to the next doorway. 

“Yeah,” Pidge’s voice says over the comm, crackling slightly now that Keith is inside the base. “I think so.” 

“What do you mean you think so?” Keith hisses. “You’re not sure?”

“No, I am sure. That’s where he is. He has to be. That’s definitely where the strongest reading is coming from. It’s just… there are pockets of quintessence all over the ship. I couldn’t pick it up properly until we got close. I’m just not sure what I’m seeing. There’s something strange going on there, so just be careful, OK?”

Keith shakes his head. So much for the plan. 

“I’m going to get Lance out of here,” he says, trying to project as much confidence as he can muster. “That’s all that matters.” 

“It’s not all that matters. You promised us a reward. You better get your ass back to this ship in one piece, along with your little prince’s, to make good on that promise.”

“Don’t mind Pidge,” Hunk chimes in. “She gets grumpy when she’s worried. But seriously, be careful OK?”

Keith doesn’t bother answering.

“Going radio silent,” Hunk finally says. “Call us when you need a ride.” 

The comms go quiet, as promised, and Keith is grateful for the reprieve. It’s been a long time since he’s been on a mission with anyone else. It’s difficult to concentrate with someone else chattering in his ear. In the quiet, however, he slips through the halls, avoiding guards easily, until he reaches the room Pidge had indicated. There’s no one outside, which is a little suspicious. Must be inside. Keith directs Rover to the lock and within seconds, the door slides open. 

Keith waits. 

He doesn’t have to wait long. The woman who comes out is the same one he saw four years ago, the same one who knocked him out cold. She looks down the hallway to the left. Fortunately, Keith is to her right. He feels a strange sort of pride as he brings the butt of his knife down on the back of her neck, knocking her out the same way he had been so many years ago. 

The general crumples and Keith darts forward to catch her, trying to keep the noise to a minimum. He drags her into the room and lays her down gently before turning to look at his surroundings. Half of the room is taken up by a metal cell. A cat sits on the bed inside, watching Keith with unblinking eyes. Keith stares back for a moment, but the cat doesn’t make a move or a sound, so he decides it’s not a concern and continues his scan of the room. 

Then Keith sees him. 

He’s taller than Keith remembers, skinny with long limbs that are currently tucked into a tiny ball around the rest of his body. His head is pressed into the corner and he doesn’t seem to have even noticed Keith enter. 

“Lance?” he whispers, his voice coming out slightly muffled behind the mask. Lance only curls in on himself even more. Keith summons Rover to unlock the cell and slips inside the second the bars open. 

“Lance, we have to go.” Lance still doesn’t respond and Keith feels like his heart may stop. He could have sworn he saw Lance move earlier, but what if it was his imagination. What if Lance is… Keith is right next to him now, leaning down, when suddenly an arm shoots out. Keith blocks the blow, stumbling slightly from the surprise of Lance lashing out at him. One of Lance’s legs sweeps out, but Keith is prepared now and easily dodges it. By the time he turns back to Lance, the boy is on his feet, one hand is still cradled against his chest, the other one balled into a fist and raised, ready to strike. 

“Lance, stop!” Keith dodges another swing. “Dammit Lance, it’s me!” Keith deactivates his mask and Lance freezes. 

“Keith?”

“I’ve come to take you home.”

“No,” Lance says, shaking his head and backing back into the corner. “This is a trick. It can’t be you.”

“It’s me. Lance, we have to go now. Please.” Keith holds out his hand. 

Lance squeezes his eyes shut, still not believing. They don’t have time for this. Keith steps in closer, reaching for Lance’s face. He flinches when Keith’s hands slide against his cheeks, but he doesn’t pull away. 

“Lance, please. Look at me.” Keith’s thumb strokes Lance’s cheek, coaxing his eyes open. Once he has Lance’s full attention, he leans in closer, searching he eyes for some shadow of the boy he used to know. “This is real. I’m getting you out of here.”

There. A flicker of recognition. Lips tighten and the look of despair ebbs ever so slightly as Lance sets his jaw with resolve. That’s the look Keith had been searching for. That’s the Prince he knew. He lets go of Lance’s face and holds out his hand again. This time, Lance takes it. 

Keith doesn’t waste a moment, tugging Lance out of the cell and down the hall. He pulls his hood up as they move, activating the comm embedded in the fabric. 

“Pidge, which way am I going?”

“Do you have him?”

“Yes. Now which way to the ships?”

“Take a left.”

Keith follows Pidge’s directions through the maze of the ship, Rover buzzing along ahead of them to check for guards. Lance follows as best he can, wheezing slightly. Keith doesn’t let go of his hand for a second. 

“Just a little further. It’s just at the end of this hallway—”

A door to Keith’s right hisses open and he freezes. The four guards on the other side stare as well, taken by surprise just as much. Keith is the first to get his wits back, sliding into action. He takes out the first guard with a knife to the gut, then spins to slice his blade across the neck of the second as he raises his gun. By that time, the other two guards are at the ready, raising their own weapons to ward of Keith’s blows. 

He lets go of Lance’s hand, praying that Lance still has enough sense to stay out of the way. 

****

Everything is moving so fast. Lance can hardly keep track. When Keith stops, Lance is thankful of the opportunity to catch his breath. Then he sees the guards. Two of them are on the ground before Lance even has time to process what is happening. Then Keith’s hand slips out of his. 

There’s a sword in Keith’s hand now in place of the knife. The clash of metal against metal makes Lance flinch back, remembering the sound of battle, frightened party guests screaming, Galra soldiers on the palace lawns that had always felt so safe, the bodies of Guardians falling around him. Keith falling to the ground. He thought he had died that day. Hoped he was wrong, but part of him was so afraid that he could be… 

Lance stumbles back under the force of the memories, his back to the row of glass tubes that lines the hall. His hand slides across the surface of one and comes away wet. Startled, Lance looks down at his hand and then back at the tube. There’s a smear across the surface where he had wiped away a thick layer of condensation. On the other side of the glass, Lance can just make out a pale hand. 

With a feeling of dread in his stomach, Lance uses his sleeve to wipe away more of the condensation. The shriveled husk of an Altean face stares back at him. 

Lance screams, pushing himself away. A shout of pain draws his attention and he looks over his shoulder, remembering the battle. Keith has fallen. Probably distracted by Lance’s scream. Three Galra lay dead around him, but the third is still very much alive, standing over Keith, pressing down on Keith’s sword with one of his own. Keith’s teeth are gritted, arms shaking under the pressure of the much larger Galra bearing down on him, as the blade inches closer and closer to his chest. 

Lance’s mind races and his eyes dart every witch way, looking for something, some way to help. One of the dead bodies is close to him, arm flung to the side from the force of his fall, fingers still wrapped around a gun. Lance lunges for the weapon. Even in death, the Galra grips his weapon tightly, fingers locked in place. Lance struggles with his fingers for a moment before giving up and lifting the gun anyway. 

The weight of the dead Galra’s arm is too heavy for Lance to be able to properly aim, but he doesn’t need to. All he needs is another distraction.  
He fires. 

The shot manages to graze the guard’s arm. He stumbles back and Keith strikes, sliding his blade through an opening and under the Galra’s ribs, stilling him once and for all. 

Lance drops the gun. His body sags, as if to follow the weapon to the ground, but then Keith’s arms are around his waist, pulling him back to his feet. It hurts, but Lance bites back the moan. He’s good at that by now. Instead, he concentrates on getting his feet under himself as Keith half carries, half drags him the rest of the way down the hall. There’s a small Galra bot waiting at the door. Lance has seen plenty of them around, but this one looks different. For one thing, the light beneath the metal plates is green instead of red. For another, it seems to be helping them escape. 

The door slides open and they find themselves in a hanger, filled with ships. They’re small, but armed to the teeth. Short range fighters. They have another name too. Lance swears he used to know it. 

Keith wastes no time, dragging Lance to the nearest ship. Lance lets himself be hauled into the seat in the back, then Keith slides into the front. The door slides closed and all around him, lights begin to flicker on. Lance squints, trying to decipher the words, but everything is in Galran. He should have paid closer attention in school. Or maybe he did pay plenty of attention and this is just what happened to knowledge after four years of neglect. 

The engine fires up, lifting their craft a few feet off the floor. And not a second too soon if the shouting coming from outside is any indication. The green Galra bot is positioned just below the window, lights flashing as it does something, and then the docking doors open. Keith accelerates the moment he sees that tiny crack of space. They seem to be moving much faster than the doors and for a second, Lance isn’t sure they’re going to make it. He braces himself for impact, but the ship slides through the opening with only the slightest scrape. 

An inky void spreads out before them, dotted with lights. The silence of space presses against their ship and for a moment, the only sound is that of Lance and Keith breathing. 

They did it. 

Lance’s relief is short lived as a bolt of light flashes past them. It was too big to come from any of the short range fighters. It had to have come from the ship. Which means Lotor knows Lance is gone. Keith jumps into action, spinning the ship away from the range of those guns. He’s saying something, but Lance can’t make heads or tails of it over the rushing sound filling his ears. 

He knows. He knows. He knows. 

Lance looks up just in time to see more docking bay doors open, and for a moment he panics. Why is Keith taking him back? He promised to rescue him. Had it all been a lie? Some kind of trick to get his hopes up and break him all over again? As if he wasn’t broken enough. 

Then he realizes that those marking aren’t Galran. This is another ship entirely. 

Their ship flies through the force field and into the cargo bay, sliding across the floor with none of the finesse that they had escaped Lotor’s ship with. They come to a halt, knocking several stacked crates over. Keith pops the hatch and jumps out of the ship before the bay doors have even closed behind them. 

Lance doesn’t move, still trying to grasp exactly what had happened. Then the entire ship shakes. 

Lotor. 

He’s still out there. He’s out there and he knows Lance has escaped. Lance has to warn Keith. 

He slides over the edge of the craft, feet landing unsteadily below him. His whole body aches in protest of the movement, but he has to tell Keith what he’s up against. He stumbles down the hallway, following the sound of voices until he reaches the cockpit. 

Keith is leaning over the dashboard, pointing at the viewscreen. Two aliens are in the cockpit as well. They look almost Altean, except for their strange ears and lack of marks. The small green one is in the pilot seat, arguing with Keith about how to avoid the weapons fire. The yellow one alternates between pressing buttons and gripping the arms of his chair every time the ship banks too sharply. 

Suddenly, the tiny alien lets go of the controls, climbing onto the back of their chair and resting a knee on the larger one’s shoulder. 

“What the hell are you doing!” Keith yells, lunging for the controls. 

“Relax,” the green one says, pulling a wire down from the massive nest on the ceiling. “It’s on auto-pilot.”

“You can’t put a ship on auto-pilot in the middle of a battle!” Keith protests. 

“Chill out. This isn’t any old system. I designed the A.I. myself. We’ll be fine.”

A blast suddenly rocks the ship to the side. The little alien would have been sent flying if the other one hadn’t managed to grab onto them just in time. 

“Or maybe not.”

“Here,” Keith says, dropping into the pilot seat. “You do what you’ve got to do. I’ll fly.”

“You seriously think you’re a better pilot than a system designed to anticipate every possible move an enemy could make?”

Another shot launches at their ship. Keith sends them into a barrel roll, evading the weapon with ease. 

“OK, fine. You can fly.”

****

Galra ships are fast. 

Altean ships are faster. 

Apparently, whatever the two humans have managed to cobble together in the engine room of this ship is even faster. Keith manages to evade the Galra weapons and ships long enough for Pidge and Hunk to eek out an extra boost of power. A few minutes later, the Galrans are out of sight completely. 

Keith releases the breath he didn’t know he had been holding. He lets go of the controls as Pidge’s A.I. program takes over, carrying them away from the Galra at a steady pace. 

“Oh my god,” Hunk whispers, turning a beaming face towards Keith. “We did it!” He throws both of his fists in the air before grabbing an equally beaming Pidge in a huge hug. “We actually did it!” 

Keith can’t help the tiny smile as relief floods through him. Hunk’s enthusiasm is infectious. And he’s right. They did it. Keith turns to share the moment with Lance, only to find that he’s gone. The smile slides off his face immediately. He slips out of his seat, leaving Hunk and Pidge to celebrate on their own.

He makes his way back towards the cargo bay, not sure where else Lance would go. About halfway down the hall, however, he spots a foot sticking out from a doorway. Lance has wedged himself into the recess of the doorframe, curled up as small as he can make himself. For one heart wrenching moment, Keith is reminded of the way that Lance looked in that cell. 

“Lance?” He reaches out to touch the prince’s shoulder. Lance flinches away. His eyes snap to Keith, reflecting real panic before he registers who it is. 

“Sorry,” he says, looking away quickly. “I’m just not used to being touched.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling.”

Keith sits down beside Lance, careful to keep his distance as much as possible in the tiny alcove. After a few minutes in silence, Lance leans onto Keith’s shoulder. He buries his face in Keith’s neck and Keith can feel the tears against his skin. He remembers a night like this, long ago, sitting next to Lance after his mother died. He remembers wrapping his arms around small shoulders that shook with sobs. 

He shouldn’t do that now. Not after the way Lance flinched away earlier. Besides, it wouldn’t be proper to treat a Prince that way. Not now that they’re older. Adults. Or near enough. Keith ought to be professional. 

A small sob sounds from next to him and Keith realizes that Lance is trying to hold the sound back, eyes squeezed shut as tightly as possible. His resolve crumbles. He slips an arm around Lance’s shoulders, lightly at first, and then pulls him in closer when Lance doesn’t flinch away. Instead of resisting, Lance scoots in closer, until he’s nearly sitting in Keith’s lap. The hand on Lance’s shoulder tightens, and his other hand goes to the back of Lance’s head, fingers carding through his hair in soothing motions. 

“Please be real,” Lance whispers his breath coming a little easier. 

Keith shuts his own eyes, feeling an all too familiar twist in his gut. 

“I am,” he says, pulling Lance closer. “It’s OK. You’re safe now. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! That was a lot of action. Next chapter we're going to slow things down a bit, give our boys some time to breathe. 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who has left comments on this story so far. I am really happy that you are all enjoying it and I hope you liked this last chapter as well. ^.^


	6. Life on a Pirate Ship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance finds a new kind of freedom on Pidge and Hunk's ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally made it back for another chapter! Hopefully there are still some folks paying attention to this story or at least lurking around the Voltron AO3 page. 
> 
> Some developments happening this chapter for Lance, though unfortunately my big meaty plot bits got bumped to the next chapter since this one was getting too long. Even so, I had quite a bit of fun with this chapter, imagining life with space pirate Pidge and Hunk, so I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

“Hey, I don’t mean to interrupt, but um… I think someone should look at that hand for you.”

Keith glances at Lance and sees that he’s still holding his left hand tightly to his chest. He looks closer and suddenly he can see what Hunk means. Some of Lance’s fingers seem to be sticking out at odd angles, and the entire appendage is swollen. Keith feels a stab of guilt for not recognizing it earlier. He had been so distracted by just getting Lance off Lotor’s ship. Nothing else had mattered. 

“Come on,” Hunk says, holding out a hand to help Lance up. Lance doesn’t take the hand and tries instead to stand on his own. Keith can see how difficult it is. There’s probably something else wrong. For the first time since finding him, Keith takes in Lance’s condition fully. His shoulders are hunched forward, but that may be because he’s still cradling his broken hand. His face is puffy and red in places, a few darker patches of purple already beginning to show through. His breathing is labored, catching slightly. Keith scrambles to his feet and reaches down to help Lance, but Lance brushes his hand off as well, determined to stand on his own. Once he’s on his own two feet, he sways alarmingly before catching his balance again. 

Hunk leads Lance off the towards the infirmary and Keith makes to follow. 

“Hold up, lover boy,” Pidge calls from the bridge. “You flew us directly into Galra occupied territory. I can plot us a course from here and keep us hidden from Galra sensors, but eventually we’re going to have to stop to re-fuel. You know this territory better than anyone else on board, so you’re not leaving until we’ve got a flight plan.” 

Keith glances back at the door. Lance gives him a small smile and nods before turning and following Hunk on his own. Keith sighs and slumps into the co-pilot seat. He and Pidge work for a while in silence, Keith scrolling through their re-supply options of planets and space stations. After a while, Pidge finally speaks. 

“He’s going to be fine, you know?”

Keith nods. “We got him out.”

Pidge shoots him an odd look, but doesn’t comment further on it. 

“OK, what do you think about this path?”

*****

“OK, so we’ve got those two fingers set. I don’t think the other one is broken, but go easy on that for a few weeks just in case. Your ribs are fine, aside from a little bruising. This one might have a small fracture, but it’s hard to tell with the swelling around it, so I think just get some rest for a few weeks and then we can check it again. Everything else looks pretty superficial. I’ve got a blood sample and the computer is running it through the database to see if we have something onboard that will work as an anti-inflammatory. If we do, that should help with the pain.”

“Thanks.” Lance examines the splints on his fingers. It’s pretty primitive medicine, but the theory behind it sounds reasonable enough. Lance knows from experience that most injuries will heal on their own if given enough time, though the healing may not always be pretty. He clenches his other hand, which still bears several thin ropy scars across the palm. “Are you a doctor?”

“No way," Hunk chuckles. "I’m barely even qualified to do first aid. Without these machines, I wouldn’t be able to do much more than put a band-aid on.”

“A what?”

“Oh, a band-aid is like this sticky bandage thing from Earth. You put it on small cuts.”

“Earth?” Lance sounds out the unfamiliar word. “Is that where you live?”

“No,” Hunk says. His smile is tighter than it was a moment ago. “Not anymore.”

“Why not?”

Hunk takes his time putting away the monitor he had been using to show Lance the images of his hand and rib bones – something called an x-ray – before answering. 

“The Galra attacked Earth three years ago. We didn’t exactly have the most impressive technology, so the whole invasion didn’t take very long. It only took them a year to ship anyone who could work off to labor colonies all across the galaxy. Then they destroyed the planet, along with everyone left there. Pidge’s parents were there when…” Hunk trails off, eyes a million lightyears away. A pang of guilt stabs at Lance’s gut, though he’s not sure why. It’s not like there was anything he could have done to stop it, but… well, the Alteans were supposed to be responsible for stopping the Galra. They were meant to protect places like Earth that couldn’t protect themselves. 

“I’m sorry about your planet. And your people.”

Hunk shakes his head, a smile back in place, even though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“They’re not all gone. Pidge has a brother out there. My parents are still alive, I think. Possibly my cousins and a few aunts and uncles too. We’ve been trying to gather enough resources and intel to find those colonies and get people free.”

Lance wants to ask more questions, but they’re interrupted by a beeping noise. 

“Blood sample’s done,” Hunk says, turning back to the computer. “Looks like we’re OK to try the pain-killers. Let’s see how you feel after a small dose. If we don’t see any side-effects, we’ll move on to something stronger.”

Lance nods and takes the round pellets that Hunk hands him. They taste awful, but he keeps chewing and tries to swallow. They’re so dry that the dust sticks to his mouth. Luckily, Hunk is already handing him a glass of water. He’s got a strange look on his face and Lance wonders if Hunk’s species produces more saliva that makes these pain-killers easier to swallow. Lance is still trying to get the foul taste out of his mouth when there’s a knock at the door. 

It’s Keith, still dressed in that black uniform. The design is clearly Galra, but Lance has never seen it before. It feels wrong to see Keith wearing it in place of his Guardian uniform. His hair is longer too, his jaw sharper and his skin paler. But the stance… Lance can’t help his smile at that familiar way Keith tucks his hands behind his back, feet shoulder-length apart, chin held high. When they were children, Lance used to catch Keith looking at his brother and father and adjusting his own body to mirror theirs. After a while, it became second nature and Lance had to push and prod to get Keith to break the stance for even a moment. Seeing it now convinces him more than anything else that this isn’t a dream. Keith really did rescue him. 

“How are you, my Prince?”

Lance frowns. My Prince? It takes him a moment to remember that this is normal too. The Keith in his dreams had always called him Lance, but the Keith from his childhood had been far more concerned with propriety. 

“Nothing that won’t heal,” He says with a small shrug. “Are we done?” He directs the last part to Hunk, who nods. He’s looking at Keith with that strange look he gave Lance earlier. Maybe it’s normal for their species. They may look mostly Altean, but it’s clear that Earthlings are very different. 

“I thought you might be tired after your ordeal,” Keith says. “Pidge has offered a room in the guest quarters for you. I can show you if you’re ready.” 

***

Lance tries to sleep, but it’s impossible. He’s been on ships before. He knows that the metal creaking and flexing is normal, but there seems to be an awful lot of it on this rust bucket. Every creek makes him tense. Every distant and muffled bang from the flexing hull makes him jump. He knows he’s safe. He knows that Lotor can’t track them, not with Pidge’s technological expertise. He still can’t stop himself from imagining the man charging into his room to drag him back to his tiny cell. Finally, Lance gives up on trying to sleep. He leaves his small, cramped room and crosses the hall to Keith’s door. He doesn’t bother to knock. 

Luckily, Keith isn’t asleep yet either. He’s standing next to his bed, one arm bent awkwardly behind his back to reach the fastening at the neck of his suit, like he was caught in the middle of changing. He freezes when he sees Lance. 

“By all means, don’t let me interrupt what you were doing,” Lance says. Keith frowns at him, but he also blushes a little. It’s good to know Lance can still have that effect on him. 

“I was about to go to bed. You should get some sleep too.”

“I’m not tired.” 

A loud bang from somewhere on the ship makes Lance jump. Keith considers him for a moment, then sighs. 

“You can stay here, if you want.” 

“I don’t need to be coddled,” Lance snaps. 

“I’m not. It’s just… You’ve been through a lot. I understand if you don’t want to be alone. And…” Keith hesitates. “And honestly I would feel better knowing you are close too.”

That blush is back on Keith’s cheeks. Lance wants to tease him about it, but he’s afraid that if he does, Keith will change his mind about letting him stay. Despite what he had said, Lance really doesn’t want to be alone right now. 

Lance nods and crosses to the bed. It’s small, so he crowds close to the wall. He expects to feel a bit of a jostle when Keith lies down, but it never comes. When Lance cracks open an eye, he sees Keith lowering himself to the floor instead. 

“Don’t be ridiculous! You can’t sleep on the floor!”

“I’ve had worse.” 

“So have I. That doesn’t make it OK. There’s plenty of room on the bed.”

Keith just shakes his head. 

“It wouldn’t be proper.”

“Neither would ignoring an order from your Prince.”

Keith raises an eyebrow at that, but he doesn’t comment further. He climbs to his feet and then slides into the bed. His movements are so fluid that the mattress hardly moves at all, except to dip under his weight. 

“There,” he says once he’s settled. “Now go to sleep Your Majesty.”

The uniform Keith wears rises high on his neck, but not quite high enough to hide the redness that is slowly creeping up his neck and onto his ears. 

“Keith, are you blushing?”

“Go to sleep Lance!”

Lance smiles and finally lowers himself back down to the mattress. With Keith at his back, he finds it easy to let the exhaustion of the day wash over him. Sleep is already dragging him under when he realizes Keith had used his name. The smile is still on his lips when he slips into unconsciousness. 

****

The first thing Lance notices upon waking is how warm he is. That’s unusual. He’s used to waking up shivering, his flimsy blanket barely any protection against the cold of space. This time though, he wakes slowly, the cocoon of warmth pulling him gently back into the realm of consciousness, and it takes a moment for him to understand why. 

A heavy blanket is draped across his shoulders, conserving not only Lance’s body heat, but also that of the body at his back. Lance looks over his shoulder. A messy black mullet lays on the pillow beside him, turned away. Lance can feel Keith’s breath where their backs are pressed together, as well as his warmth. He wants nothing more than to cuddle into the furnace of Keith’s body and go back to sleep, but his body has other ideas. 

As he tries to twist around, a sharp pain in his side causes him to gasp. Keith’s back tenses and a second later, he’s up, reaching to his hip for the knife that is no longer strapped there, eyes darting around the room, looking for the enemy. Lance groans, the sudden movement in the bed causing another stab of pain, and Keith finally looks at him. 

“Lance! Are you OK? Tell me what’s wrong!”

“Nothing,” Lance manages to say through gritted teeth. “I just moved to fast, I think.”

“I’ll get Hunk. He can take a look and—”

“I’m fine, Keith. I just… need a second… to breathe.”

“I’ll go—”

“Keith, stop!” Lance grabs his arm, knuckles white from the force of his grip. “Don’t move. Please.” Keith freezes and in the stillness, Lance is finally able to catch his breath. The stabbing pain mellows to a dull throb and, with a little help, Lance manages to sit up without re-aggravating the injury further. He takes a few more shallow breaths just to test things out. He’s used to this part, checking in with his body to see what works and what doesn’t, what he’ll need to go easy on and what is bad enough that he’ll need to squash his pride and as for help. 

“You sure you’re OK?”

“I’m fine,” Lance says truthfully. His hand had been the worst of it and, with the splint, that at least seems to be on the mend. His ribs are painful, but manageable. This isn’t his first time breaking them and he knows he will just have to go easy for a while. “Just a little hungry, I guess.”

“I’ll bring something back”

Lance frowns.

“I can go too. I’m not an invalid.”

“I didn’t mean that. I just… Look, if you don’t need medical attention, I’m not sure it’s a very good idea for you to spend much time around these humans.”

That gives Lance pause. 

“Why not?”

“I’m not certain it’s safe.”

“They helped rescue me, didn’t they?”

Keith nods. 

“They did. For a price.”

“You mean they’re mercenaries?”

“No. They’re just… Look, I met them because they were trying to steal my ship.”

“They what?” Lance thinks about Keith and tries to square that that friendly face from his memory with the image of him holding a weapon on someone or demanding their money. As much as he tries, he just can’t force the two images to come together. Even so, he knows Keith would never lie to him. 

“I convinced them that there would be more money in helping me rescue you than in scrapping my ship for parts. They agreed, so they’re helping.”

“But you still don’t trust them?”

“They won’t betray us to the Galra, but… I don’t know what they will do. Anyone who can be bought is always looking for a higher price. I think we just need to be careful here.”

Lance nods, but there’s something that isn’t adding up. 

“Keith, why… why did you need their help?”

“The sensors on my ship weren’t advanced enough to—”

“No, I mean… when I realized it was you, I thought you’d be bringing me back to an Altean ship. I thought the Altean Army or at least the Guardians would be with you. Why are you here alone? Are they… did they not look for me?”

“Of course they did. They are looking for you. They’ve never stopped.”

“Then why are you here on your own?”

Keith ducks his head and his shoulders slump ever so slightly. 

“Because King Alfor forbade me to go.” His hands are balled into fists at his sides, though his voice remains steady. “He thought I was too young, but… I know I wasn’t your official Guardian, but I swore you an oath. I couldn’t just sit by and do nothing.”

“Keith, how long have you been looking for me?”

“I left Altea two weeks after you were taken.”

Lance has no idea how to feel about that. He’s horrified that Keith has been on his own for that long, that he had been in enemy territory for just as long as Lance had. He’s angry at his father for not being able to stop him. He’s also grateful that Keith came. And there’s something else, something warm in his chest that he can’t think about right now. 

“I can’t believe Shiro or your father didn’t stop you.”

Keith shrugs, but he still doesn't look up.

“Shiro wasn’t in any sort of shape to stop anyone when I left.”

Right. The battle. He had never been told what happened that day. He figured that his family was fine. Lotor would have tried to use that against him if any of them had been hurt. But beyond that… He remembers a scream and Keith leaving his side before…

“Is he OK?”

“He’s fine. His arm… they couldn’t save it after, but Coran and Allura built him a new one. They’re still working on upgrades though. It seems like every time I get him on the vid screen, it looks completely different.”

“And your father?”

Keith’s mouth goes thin and Lance can see the way he struggles to swallow. He knows the answer before Keith says it. 

“He didn’t make it.”

“Keith…” Lance is at a loss for words. “I’m so sorry.” He doesn’t just mean for Keith’s father. He’s sorry for Shiro too and all the years that Keith gave up to find him. His whole life. Gone or put on hold and all for Lance. It’s too much to put into words, so Lance takes Keith’s hand instead, trying to pour everything into that simple touch. Keith seems lost in his thoughts. His thumb brushes across the side of Lance’s hand automatically.

“It was a long time ago,” Keith says. “Dad always taught me that we can’t change the past. Only the future." He looks up, finally meeting Lance's eyes again. "I’ve known since I was four that you would be my future, Lance.” There it is again, that little fire in his chest that Lance can’t seem to smother no matter how hard he tries. “I am your Guardian and I will protect you until my last breath. You have my Oath.” 

Lance remembers the day that Keith swore himself to Lance, kneeling before him in the gardens. The Oath is traditionally sworn in the throne room, but this one had to be kept a secret. It wasn’t allowed and if anyone else knew they both would have been in trouble for playing around with one of the most solemn vows any Altean can make. They were too young to understand the full meaning of the words, the sacrifice that those words demanded. Or at least, that’s what they would have been told. Lance thinks about what Keith left behind, about the hardships he must have endured, and he knows that they would have been wrong. Keith understood the words, even back then, and he made the Oath regardless. 

Lance almost hugs him before he remembers his ribs. Then he remembers his propriety as well. They may have danced and hugged and played as kids, but as an adult, as a prince, it would no longer be appropriate. He settles for squeezing Keith’s hand. This probably wouldn’t be appropriate either, but small indulgences can surely be allowed when they are alone. 

They stay like that for a moment until Lance’s stomach gives an embarrassing loud grumble. Keith does his best not to laugh, but Lance can still see the hint of amusement behind his eyes. Jerk. 

“Let me bring you some food,” he says, letting go of Lance’s hand. 

“No, I can go myself.” Keith looks like he’s about to argue again, but Lance cuts him off. “I’ve been living in a cell for four years. I’m not going to spend any more time letting myself be confined to a single room.” Keith nods, looking a bit guilty, and Lance feels awful. That’s not what he intended at all. “Besides. You’ll be right there to protect me, right?” He holds out his hand and waits for Keith to gently help him to his feet. He could do it on his own. In fact, it’s killing him not to do it on his own. He’s not used to waiting for help. Not anymore. Still, the silent request has its desired effect. By the time Lance is on his feet, the guilty look has vanished completely from Keith’s face.  
They make their way towards the kitchen, side by side. 

****

Despite Keith’s warnings, Lance can’t really bring himself to think of Hunk as a threat. When they get to the kitchen, Hunk is already there preparing a complicated meal that turns out to be delicious. He beams when Lance tells him this, though he tries to brush off the compliment. 

“It would be better if I could find the proper ingredients, but just try finding fresh milk in space.” 

Lance just nods along, even though he has no idea what “milk” is. The food tastes great and Hunk proves to be great company, even managing to crack Keith’s stony expression a few times. 

After breakfast, Keith wants to go back to his ship. He and Pidge have already planned a route back to Altean territory, but Keith wants to double check it against his own archives. Lance declines the invitation to join him, which Keith isn’t exactly thrilled about

“We’re all stuck on a ship in the middle of nowhere, right? Even if they have nefarious plans, they’re not going to try anything here.” 

Once Keith finally agrees, Lance begins to wander. The ship is big, but most of that space seems to be taken up by the cargo and docking area in the very back. Lance tries to create a mental map in his head, but he quickly realizes that his proportions are all off when he finds himself very suddenly on the bridge. 

Pidge looks up at him when he enters, eyeing him up and down before turning back to their work without a word. After 4 years of captivity, Lance is used to being dismissed by those around him. He just didn’t expect it here. Not after Hunk had been so nice. It’s unsettling. 

“What’s the date?” Lance asks, determined to get even a small response from the tiny pilot. 

Pidge clicks a button on the console. Eight numbers flash onto the screen. They mean nothing to Lance. Then Pidge swipes a finger across the view screen and the display switches to something more familiar. 

“This should be the correct Altean time and date. Give or take a few minutes.” 

Lance stares at the date for a moment, then laughs. Pidge spares him another glance. 

“What?” 

“He rescued me on his birthday. He didn’t even mention it.” Lance shakes his head. He’s a little irritated that it hadn’t come up at all, but he also finds it weirdly comforting. This is exactly the sort of thing he would expect Keith to do. It’s yet another reminder that the old Keith is still in there, deep down. 

“Well, we were fighting off a ship full of Galra. Probably had more important things on his mind.” 

“Yeah.” Lance shrugs. “I guess you’re right.” 

As Lance continues to look at the date, a heavy weight settles into his stomach. 

“Four years,” he mutters. It was just like Lotor said. Lance had always wondered. Though he always assumed there was a healthy dose of lies packed into anything Lotor told him, he had apparently been completely honest about how much time was passing. 

“It’s a long time to go without seeing your home. Or your family.” Pidge’s shoulders are tense and they still aren’t looking at Lance. 

“Right. Hunk told me what happened on your planet. I’m sorry.” 

“I don’t want you to be sorry,” Pidge snaps. They swipe their hand hand across the console, clearing the date, and spin around to glare at Lance. “I want you to make sure your dad keeps up his end of the deal. Two million intergalactic credits.” 

Lance swallows, trying to catch up to the sudden shift in conversation. 

“You’ll get your money.” He can feel his own hackles rising. There’s a voice in his head, berating him, that sounds an awful lot like Keith’s. It just makes him more angry. “Apparently that’s all you care about.” 

Pidge sneers at him, clearly not phased by the barb. 

“Look, Your Highness, I don’t have a rich dad and a fancy army looking out for me. I’ve got myself and I’ve got Hunk. Any other advantage I can get, I’m taking. So yeah, I’m in it for the money, and I don’t feel bad about that. I look out for me and mine, and if you’re smart, you’ll do the same.” 

Pidge goes back to work, the conversation clearly over. Lance wants to shoot back some kind of witty retort, but everything that comes to mind just seems petty. He spins on his heel and walks off the bridge. Maybe he should have gone with Keith from the beginning. 

***

As the days go by, Lance finds himself settling into a bit of a routine. He starts his mornings with Keith and Hunk, eating breakfast and listening to Hunk’s stories about his and Pidge’s close calls. Most of these stories seem to end with Hunk throwing up. Lance isn’t sure if that’s just Hunk’s self depreciating humor or if that really did happen as much as he claims. After breakfast, Keith usually disappears back to his ship to check their flight progress. After his abysmal first meeting with Pidge, Lance decides to stick with Keith as much as possible. Unfortunately, that proves to be incredibly boring. Keith has a tendency to lose himself in his charts and often forgets Lance is there, no matter how many times Lance tries to engage him in conversation. 

It’s not that Keith doesn’t try. It’s that he’s just terrible at holding any conversation for more than 10 seconds without lapsing into an awkward silence. For a while, Lance tries to make up for this by being even more talkative, but that only seems to make the situation worse. No matter how hard Lance tries, he can’t seem to steer clear of mentioning his time on Lotor’s base. It’s not entirely his fault. He spent four years there. Those memories are clearer to Lance than most memories from Altea, but he knows Keith doesn’t want to hear about it. Every time the subject comes up, Keith gets this pained look on his face and starts to apologize. Lance doesn’t want to hurt Keith. He just wants things to be normal between them, but he has no idea how to make that happen. 

After a few days of enduring this awkwardness, Lance gives up and ventures back into the bowels of the ship. A loud clanging draws his attention and, before long, he finds himself in a second cargo bay with the remains of what he assumes used to be a ship. It has been mostly stripped down, the parts lying scattered across the floor in piles that vaguely look alike. Hunk is standing over one of these piles, a thin rod of metal in one hand and a small, black metal box in the other. He looks up when Lance walks in. 

“Hey,” he says with a smile. “Don’t usually see you out and about.”

Lance shrugs

“You can only watch someone stare at a console for so many days.” Hunk laughs and nods. “Can I help you with… whatever it is you’re doing?”

“Do you know how to fix a Krellian Star Drive?” Hunk asks, holding up the black box. 

“I’m not even sure I know what that is.”

“That’s what I thought.” Hunk goes back to his tinkering as if the matter has been settled. 

“Come on,” Lance practically begs, sagging to the floor next to him. “You have to have something I can do. I feel so useless just sitting here.”

Hunk sighs and sets the box to the side before climbing to his feet. 

“Fine. You can help me disassemble the rest of the ship. Not a lot of fineness required to tear things apart. You’ll pick it up real quick.”

***

Several hours later, Lance staggers into the kitchen, completely exhausted and covered in dirt and oil. 

“Have a seat,” Hunk says, pulling out a chair for him. “I’ll whip up some dinner.” 

“Hunk, you are a god among men.” Lance drapes himself over the cool metal table. His etiquette lessons from long ago nag at that back of his mind, reminding him how disrespectful this is, but the cool surface feels so good against his sore muscles and he can’t bring himself to care. Lance’s eyes are closed, but he hears the click and whoosh of the door sliding open a few minutes later. 

“Lance, are you OK? What did you do to him?”

Keith is by his side in an instant. His hands are gentle as they cup his face, but his eyes are like fire. He flinches away before he realizes that the fire isn’t directed at him, but at Hunk instead. 

“We were just working on a ship. He’s fine.”

“Just tired,” Lance confirms. He places a hand on Keith’s arm, hoping it will calm him down, but instead Keith goes stiff. 

“You shouldn’t be working that hard. Your hand—”

Lance rolls his eyes and tugs his hand out of Lance’s reach.

“I was being careful. Besides, I still have the splint and it’s almost healed anyway.”

“But your ribs—"

“My ribs are fine. Perfectly healed. See?” Lance holds up his arms and wiggles around to demonstrate how fine he is. There’s a slight twinge, but he ignores it in favor of proving his point. 

“That’s remarkable.” Lance didn’t even realize Pidge had entered the room, but now they’re leaning around Keith, one hand adjusting their glasses, the other reaching out as if to touch before thinking better about it. “The Altean and human bodies are so similar on the surface, but Alteans seem to heal nearly twice as fast as humans when it comes to physical injuries.” 

“See?” Lance says with a grin in Keith’s direction. “I’m remarkable.” 

“That’s not what Pidge said.” Keith frowns at Lance, then reaches over to brush a smear of oil off his cheek, just above the jawline. 

Hunk chuckles from the kitchen. 

“You two are so cute together.” 

Keith immediately drops his hand, cheeks turning a little pink, and he quickly changes the subject. The conversation moves on and Lance finds himself easily carried along with the banter and small talk. He’s laughing at a particularly lively argument between Pidge and Hunk about who saved who the last time they encountered a Galra when he notices Keith watching him with a strange expression on his face. 

“What?”

“Nothing. I just… you seem really happy.”

Lance glances back at Pidge and Hunk. They’re still arguing. Pidge has one knee on the table in an attempt to gain enough height to stare Hunk down. They’re both determined to win, but there’s no anger behind their words. Neither person seems to have noticed that they’ve lost their previously enraptured audience. Lance’s lips quirk up in a tiny smile. 

“I am, I guess. It’s nice here.”

Keith looks over at the humans. Hunk has captured Pidge in a headlock and is grinning as he asks them to “say uncle.” Keith looks back at Lance and raises an eyebrow. 

“I’m serious. My whole life I’ve been a prince or a prisoner; above everyone around me or below them. It’s nice to just be treated normal. For once.”

“Fine! You win!” Keith and Lance turn back to a scowling and slightly more rumpled looking Pidge. “Not because you’re right, but because you fight dirty,” Pidge says, glaring at Hunk. 

Hunk just ruffles Pidge’s hair again and grins at Lance and Keith. “Such a sore loser.” 

***

The next day, Lance wakes up sore, his muscles aching from overuse, but he can’t wait to work with Hunk again. It feels good to have something to do, to be able to fill his days with purpose instead of simply trying to fill the time between lights up and lights out. It's also nice to get his hands dirty, for once. Though his sister had always enjoyed tinkering with Altean tech when they were kids, Lance had never shown much of an interest. Even if he had, the sort of work he would have been permitted as a royal hobby would have been nothing like the dirty, labor intensive, work that he does with Hunk. If you had asked him five years ago, Lance would have shown no interest in that work either. He's not sure what has changed, exactly, but he finds himself eager to get back in the cargo bay now. 

Keith has other ideas. 

“What are we doing here?” Lance asks. 

Before breakfast, Keith had excused himself, returning just as the meal finished in time to steal Lance away from Hunk. Now they stand in the cargo bay beneath Keith’s ship. It’s clear that Keith had spent his time this morning arranging the boxes and barrels that littered this bay into some sort of pattern that Lance can’t quite decipher. 

“We’re here for training.” 

Memories of Keith’s training with the other Guardians flash through Lance’s mind. Keith had trained with swords, knifes, blasters, and even hand to hand combat since he was small. Unlike the forbidden activity of manual labor, combat training was something Lance had craved for his entire life. 

“You’re going to teach me to fight?”

“No. We’re just going to build up your muscle mass. You’ve been in space a long time. Now that you’re healing, it’s time to start preparing for your return to Altea.” 

Lance tries not to look too disappointed. Instead, he focuses on the maze before him. No, not a maze, he realizes as the pattern slowly begins to resolve itself. It’s an obstacle course. Now that he knows what he’s looking for, the barrels and boxes begin to take on the familiar shapes of the course in the Guardian compound. As a child, he probably could have run it blindfolded for how many times he’d seen Keith run the course. He quickly discovers that the same cannot be said now. 

Perhaps it's the soreness in his muscles from yesterday's exertions or the fact that his ribs may not have been as "perfectly" healed as he claimed. Maybe it has to do with the bulky splint that makes one hand mostly useless. Or maybe Keith is right. Four years confined to a cell in space, even with artificial gravity, hadn't done his body any favors. He slips and trips through the course and even without seeing the results on the timer in Keith's hand, he knows that his performance was terrible. Fortunately, Keith doesn't comment on it. He simply resets the timer and says, "Again."

Keith is patient, but firm. When Lance gets tired, Keith lets him rest, but when he gets frustrated, Keith pushes him to keep trying. They work through most of the day until Lance finally collapses on the floor, declaring that he can’t move another muscle. Keith sits down beside him and offers a bottle of water. Lance takes it and tips his head up for a sip. Most of the water runs over his chin from the odd angle, but Lance doesn’t care. He simply gulps down the water that manages to land on his tongue before dropping his head back to the floor. 

“I feel like I weigh a million pounds,” Lance complains. 

“That’s because I increased the gravity a few hours ago.”

“You what?” Lance forces his head back off the ground to fix Keith with an incredulous stare. 

“Only slightly. You wouldn’t have even noticed it if you hadn’t been exerting yourself.”

Lance wants to tell Keith he’s a complete sadist, but all he can manage is a small groan as he lays his head back down. 

“You’re doing well,” Keith says. It almost sounds like an apology. 

“Liar.”

“Alright, you’re doing well for someone who’s injured and who hasn’t set foot on a surface without artificial gravity for several years. We’ll keep practicing and you’ll be ready to set foot on Altea in no time.”

Lance tries to ignore the pit that opens in his stomach at the mention of Altea. How many dreams has he had of home? How many years had he held out hope? And now there’s something else in hope’s place. 

“Well,” he says, pushing those thoughts from his mind, “You better turn the gravity back down because I am starving and there’s no way I’m going to be able to make it to the kitchen like this.” 

Keith makes his way to the wall panel to adjust the gravity. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been exaggerating before. The change is barely noticeable and Lance finds that he still can’t stand on his own. Eventually, he accepts Keith’s help, his legs feeling like jelly as they make their way to the kitchen. His weakness is embarrassing, but he doesn’t mind the feel of Keith’s arm around his waist or his shoulder beneath Lance’s hand. 

When they finally do make it to the kitchen, Hunk’s jaw drops at the sight of them. 

“What did you do to him!” 

Lance tries not to laugh at the complete roll reversal from yesterday as Keith lowers him onto a stool and then begins to argue with Hunk about whether Lance was still too injured to be working that hard. Pidge rolls their eyes and passes him a glass of juice without a word. 

***

After a few days of running, jumping, and sweating profusely though Keith's course, Lance can no longer wash the stink of physical activity out of his clothing in the very limited washing facilities on the ship. Luckily, ship parts are not the only commodity Pidge and Hunk have relieved from unlucky souls over the years. Hunk shows Lance to a closet filled with garments of all sizes, fitted for more species than Lance has even met. 

“It’s been a while since we’ve sold anything, so I don’t know what all is in here, but you’re welcome to whatever you find.”

Lance begins to pick through the piles, discarding jackets with four arms, pants with six legs, and one shirt that seems to have room for at least two heads. He discards clothing that is too big and clothing that is far too small. He’s nearly to the bottom of the first pile when he spots something… intriguing.

***

“What are you wearing!” 

“What? This was the only thing I could find that fits.” 

“But… I can see your skin!”

Pidge glances back at Lance, who is blushing a little, though that’s nothing compared to the bright red flush that reaches all the way to Keith’s ears. Lance will admit, the shirt is probably the most revealing thing he has ever worn in public, what with the sleeves ending just above his biceps. The design looks Altean, but it is probably meant to be worn with a second shirt or separate sleeves. The additional garments may be buried somewhere in one of those piles of clothing. Lance hadn’t taken the time to look. 

“You mean his arms?” Pidge asks, completely bewildered. 

“I’m sure they have adequate coverings somewhere, your highness.”

Lance crosses his arms over his chest, and he doesn’t miss the way Keith forces himself to look away.

“What if I don’t want to be covered? What if I’m more comfortable like this?”

“It’s not—”

“What? Proper?”

“Exactly.”

“Well maybe I don’t feel like being proper, Keith.”

Keith opens and closes his mouth several times, though he seems incapable of forming actual words. Pidge, on the other hand, chooses that moment to interject their opinion. 

“I don’t get it. It’s his arms. It’s not like he’s walking around with his dick out.”

Lance frowns and looks at Pidge. 

“Dick?”

“It’s… a word for the male reproductive organ on humans.” Hunk says, looking a little embarrassed at having to explain it. 

“And Alteans,” Pidge says, matter-of-factly. “Our species’ anatomy is nearly identical. Convergent evolution, most likely, though I suppose there’s no concrete proof that life on Earth didn’t originate from the same source that Alteans did…”

“Hmm… Dick.” Lance tries out the word out. “I like it.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you—”

“He means the word, Pidge.” Hunk is blushing furiously and, if possible, Keith looks even redder then he was before. It is hard to tell for sure though with his face hidden behind his hand.

“Can you all please stop encouraging him?” he mumbles. 

“Can you please stop talking about me like I’m not here?” Lance snaps. “I am here and I can make whatever decisions I want. And I decide that I don’t want sleeves.”

Keith drops his hand, looking appropriately apologetic, though when he speaks his words still have the unmistakable ring of disapproval. 

“As your highness wishes.”

“STOP CALLING ME THAT!”

Lance’s outburst surprises everyone, including him. He stands there for a moment, breath coming heavy and harsh, all eyes in the room fixed on him, before he turns and runs. He has no idea where he’s going, but eventually ends up huddled behind a bin full of rusty parts in the cargo area, knees tucked against his chest as he tries his best to get control of his breathing. He’s so focused on the too fast rise and fall of his chest that he doesn’t even notice Keith until he feels the hand on his back. 

“It’s OK, Lance. Just breath.”

It’s such a stupid thing to say. What the hell does Keith think he’s trying to do? Lance feels his hand being pried from his own leg and pressed to Keith’s chest. He can feel Keith’s heartbeat and his slow, steady breaths. He focuses on that feeling, trying to slow his breath to match. It takes a while. Hell, if feels like it takes an eternity, but finally, Lance feels his own breath begin to slow. It’s another few minutes before its slow enough that Lance finally relaxes, dropping his hand from Keith’s chest. 

“I didn’t mean to upset you before. I’m sorry.”

Lance shakes his head, feeling ashamed for his outburst. 

“It’s fine. I just… I just wish you would call me by my name instead of…” 

Your Highness. 

Your Grace. 

Little Prince. 

The words stick in his throat as Lotor’s voice whispers in his memories. 

“It’s just been a long time since anyone has used my name,” Lance finally manages. 

“I’m sorry, Lance. I was just trying to show you the proper respect.”

“I don’t want that from you.” Lance’s breath hitches and he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to hold back tears of frustration. “I never wanted that. Even when we were kids and I would order you around. It was just a game to me. I never wanted you to really think of me that way. I just… wanted you to be my friend. Can’t you… can’t you just drop everything else and just be that?”

“I’m afraid if I do, I won’t be able to change back to being your Guardian.”

Lance opens his eyes.

“Who says you have to?”

Keith frowns, searching Lance’s eyes for the meaning behind his words. 

“If you wish to choose another Guarding when we return – ”

“No. That’s not…” Lance leans his head back, eyes on the ceiling as he searches for a way to explain. “What if we don’t go back.”

When he looks back at him, Keith’s face is hard, his lips pressed into a thin line. 

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“Your people need you.”

“They have my father.”

“Your family needs you.”

“They have Allura.”

“You have a duty!”

“I don’t care!”

Keith shakes his head and stands up. 

“I think you could use some rest. You’re not in your right mind.”

Lance can feel the tears welling up again. He’s not upset. He’s frustrated and angry that Keith won’t listen and with the tears threatening to flow, he’s also frustrated with himself. He doesn’t want to appear weak. He’s not weak and he’s certainly not confused. Lance struggles to his feet and fixes Keith with a glare. 

“I know exactly what I’m saying.”

“No, you don’t. The Prince I knew would never have abandoned his duty.”

“Maybe I’m not him anymore.”

Keith doesn’t say anything. He simply turns and walks out the door, leaving Lance to stew in a strange mix of guilt and relief at finally having put words to those thoughts. 

***

Lance paws through the contents of the cupboard before him, tossing aside brightly colored bags of snacks that Hunk and Pidge have picked up from markets all over the galaxy. He’s not hungry, but he wasn’t sure where else to go. Keith will be back in their room. No, not their room. His room. Lance has a separate room of his own, but the thought of going back there is even less appealing than running into Keith in the room they’ve been sharing for the past two weeks. Lance finally gives up and slams the cupboard with far more force than is strictly necessary. 

Hunk glances up at him from across the kitchen where he’s fiddling with some contraption. 

“What?” 

“Nothing,” Hunk says, going back to his fiddling. 

Lance frowns and turns to face him fully, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“It’s not nothing, otherwise you wouldn’t be over there looking like you’re about to swallow your own tongue just to stay quiet.”

“I mean, it’s not really my business…” 

“But you obviously still want to ask the question, so just say it.”

“You’re still mad at Keith.”

Lance’s frown deepens. 

“Of course I’m still mad at him. He’s being a complete jerk.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Hunk doesn’t sound convinced, which is ridiculous.

“You guess? He is absolutely being a jerk. He won’t listen to me. He won’t consider that maybe I know what’s best for me. He just wants me to shut up and be this obedient little prisoner until he can dump me back on Altea and be satisfied that he’s finally done his duty.”

Hunk squints at Lance. 

“That doesn’t sound like Keith.” 

“Well apparently he fooled us both.”

With a sigh, Hunk finally puts down the mechanical device he had been trying to repair (or possibly trying to dismantle – Lance was never sure with Hunk). 

“Maybe you’re both fooling yourselves.”

“What?”

“Keith didn’t tell you about how we met, did he?”

Lance shrugs.

“He told me you were trying to steal his ship.”

“Did he tell you that he was bleeding out when we boarded his ship?”

No. 

No, he definitely hadn’t mentioned that. 

Apparently, the look on Lance’s face is enough of an answer. Hunk continues. 

“Looked like he took a knife to the gut. We patched him up, but that’s not the only scar he has. He’s been out there on his own for four years looking for you, risking his life. And when he finally found you… He doesn’t look at you like you’re his job.”

Lance’s gaze drops to the floor, unable to look at Hunk any longer. 

“You like him too, don’t you?”

Lance wants to deny it. He should deny it. Instead, he just says, “He’s my Guardian.”

“But you do like him. I take it that’s a problem?”

“It’s forbidden.” 

Hunk is silent. What more is there to say? Even if Lance did like Keith, even if he wanted Keith, even if he loved him, it wouldn’t matter. It’s forbidden. Nothing more to talk about. 

Except… it’s not forbidden to Hunk. 

“I didn’t think I would ever see him again.” Lance’s fingers dig into his arms as he speaks. “I thought… When I was taken, there was this battle and he… I thought he died. Some days I could convince myself that he was still alive, but other days…” 

“What?”

“I can’t…” Lance shakes his head. “It’s not…” 

“Hey, it’s OK. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. And if you do, this kitchen is a judgment free zone, OK?" An awkward silence spreads between them until Hunk finally breaks it. "How about you just sit down and I’ll make us some hot chocolate.” 

Lance doesn’t sit. His breath is shaky, so he concentrates on evening it out instead as Hunk busies himself in the kitchen. Lance lets himself get lost in the sound of cupboards opening and closing, of the weird electric buzz the stove makes, and of a metal spoon scraping against the side of a pan. He breaths, steady. Even. Then he closes his eyes and confesses his secret to the darkness. 

“Sometimes… I thought he was dead and I was glad.” 

Silence greets his words. 

Then the spoon is stirring again. 

“Go on,” Hunk says. 

“I didn’t want to be alone. And at least if Keith was dead, his ghost could be anywhere. Even on that ship. Even in my cell. I imagined him with me, and he seemed so real. I’d just close my eyes and I could see him. Hear him. Smell him even. Then I’d open my eyes and he’d be gone, and I would miss him so much that my chest would ache.” 

There’s a soft click and the buzz of the stove stops. Hunk pours the hot chocolate into two mugs, then carries them both to the table. Lance finally sits down when Hunk slides one mug across the table to him. 

“I sound like a horrible person, don’t I?”

“No. But it sounds like you like him a lot more than you’ll admit.”

A bolt of panic shoots through Lance’s stomach. 

“Don’t tell him.” 

“I won’t—"

“I don’t know how I feel or if what I feel is even real. I remember the way he was in my head better than any memories I have of the real Keith. What if I made it all up? If I made up him and our feelings. Keith, this real Keith, he’s so different. He’s cold and distant and mysterious and ha— and… cold.”

“You were going to say handsome.” 

Hunk is doing a terrible job at hiding his smile. 

“I was not.” 

“It’s fine. You can say handsome.” 

“I wasn’t thinking that.”

“Of course not.”

“And even if I was, it’s just objective fact. It’s not because I’m in love with him.” 

“I didn’t say anything about love.” 

“Good. Because I’m not.” 

“Right.” 

“I’m not.” 

“Of course.” 

“Don’t tell Keith.” 

“I won’t.” 

They sit in silence, sipping on their hot chocolate. It’s very good. Lance will have to ask Hunk to show him how to make it. He’s nearly done with his cup when Hunk finally speaks. 

“So… if you did love him, and I’m not saying you do, but… if you did. What happens then?” 

Lance sets down his mug. There’s still a few sips left, but Lance’s stomach turns and he finds he has no more appetite for it. 

“I don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for everyone who has stuck with this story over that 5 month gap in updates. I really appreciate that you guys are still with me and still interested in this story. I wish I could say I'll be back to posting more regularly, but honestly who knows. 2020 has been quite the year, so I'm not making any short term promises. I will promise, however, that this fic will eventually be finished. I've got it all planned out and there are a lot of really exciting bits already written for the end of this fic, so I will be finishing it no matter what. 
> 
> As I mentioned in my note at the beginning of this fic, there were some big meaty plot points that were supposed to happen in this chapter but got pushed to the next one. The bad news is you'll have to wait for those. The good news is that they're actually already mostly written, so hopefully you won't have to wait too long. Again, I can't make any exact promises, but I am hopeful the next chapter will be finished soon. 
> 
> As always, I love to hear your thoughts. I cut a lot of small bits from this chapter when I realized exactly how long it was getting, so I might do more little drabbles about life on the ship, so let me know if there's anything you're curious about or would like to read. What do you think is going to happen next chapter? What do you want to happen next chapter? What are you afraid is going to happen next chapter that you don't really want because our boys deserve to be happy but also you secretly do absolutely want because of the drama? Let me know in the comments!


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